Shadow of The Night
by john6lisa
Summary: AU B&W Set during WWII in England. In this AU, Men and Women fight equally together in combat. Myka is Captain and pilot of the 'Shadow of The Night' B-17 bomber stationed in Grafton Underwood RAF base. The RAF ace fighter pilot, HG Wells, her Spitfire nicknamed 'Midnight Angel', is assigned escort duty for the bomber on it's special missions over Germany. Love and angst for B&W
1. Chapter 1

**AU B&amp;W Set during WWII in England. In this AU, Men and Women fight equally together in combat. Myka is Captain and pilot of the 'Shadow of The Night' B-17 bomber stationed in Grafton Underwood RAF base. The RAF ace fighter pilot, HG Wells, her Spitfire nicknamed 'Midnight Angel', is assigned escort duty for the bomber on its special missions over Germany.**

**Love and angst for B&amp;W set against the backdrop of WWII.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Syfy.**

* * *

"How much longer?" the captain's voice strained, crackling over the com.

"Twenty seconds," the bombardier answered, her voice high-pitched as she started the count down.

"We don't have twenty seconds," her co-pilot grimaced as they both struggled to hold the flying fortress steady through all the flack that was raining upon them.

"We have no choice, stay on course," the captain's voice, a calm cutting through all the rushed chatter over the radio.

"Running out of ammo," the tail gunner shouted.

"Amanda?" the captain asked.

"On it, Cap' " the gunner replied, rushing aft with the metal box tucked under her arm.

"Here, Josh." Amanda saying as she loaded the clips into the .50 gun, blowing away its smoke from the open latch.

"Locked and loaded," slapping the tail-gunner on his back with one hand as she slapped the latch closed on the gun.

"Go check on Claud?" he asked, his eyes trained on the German Messerschmitt in his crosshairs. "Damn, they are breaking off!"

"Captain, the Messer's are breaking off, we must be near …"

"We know sergeant, drop zone ahead," both the captain and her co-pilot said in unison.

"How much longer, Donovan?" her voice gritting through her teeth as she struggled to hold the plane on course.

"We just lost tail-end Charlie and half of our escort," Pete said, his eyes glazing over to his Captain

"10, 9, 8," Claudia was counting down.

"Myka?"

"Stay the course, Lattimer," Myka hissed, her biceps straining to keep the plane steady.

"We've lost the number two engine!" Pete shouted over the roar of anti-flack fire popping around them, smoke starting to swirl around the cockpit.

"3, 2, and one!" the bombardier shouted over the com.

"Bombs away," Myka replied in a steady, calm voice. "All planes turn around, after payload,"

"Great, now for the fun part," Pete smirked as they struggled with the controls as they flew through the flack.

"Claud?"

"Yes! Direct hit, all clear captain," Claudia was saying as she pumped her fist.

"We have 5 when clear of the flack, eyes on the sky, gunners," the speaking to all the planes.

"Jinks? You still with us?" Claudia asked over the planes com.

"Yup, right as rain," the bottom turret gunner replied.

"Stop all the chatter," Myka growled over the radio, "We still need to touch down,"

"Ever the optimist," Amanda grinned as she steadied her hand on the bombardier's shoulder. The plane groaning and shaking, causing them to stumble as she smiled.

"How are we on ammo?" Myka asked as she steadied the plane.

"Just dandy, cap. Am ready to kill me some Nazis," Josh grinned as he reloaded the .50 nose gun.

"That should make tail-end Charlie feel better," Myka said in a cold, icy tone, her turning to look out the window, watching as the plane descended to its fiery death.

"They were just kids," Myka whispered to herself, her hand muffling her remark from the plane's com.

"We all knew what the risks were when we signed up," Pete said, his face falling as he guided the plane back to friendly skies. "You okay, Cap?" Pete whispered to Myka.

She bristled his hand away, all business as she squared her shoulders, giving a **'don't you dare**' look at her co-pilot.

Her green eyes as cold as the icy waves that lapped against the rocks of the channel they were getting ready to cross. **'The dark green Ice Queen**' would be a silent joke among the crews of the other bombers. None readily admitting to their gratitude at Myka's stoic coolness that kept them landing, safe, from each mission.

"All clear, heading for the Channel, count off," Myka radioing to the other planes to sound off. The lump in her throat grew as the last plane, tail-end Charlie, did not respond. The low crackle of empty air over the radio and com systems was deafening to all.

Myka knew she needed to calm the squad of bombers under her command, them looking to her leadership and calm as they counted off.

"The rookies didn't make it," plane 6 sounded off.

"Enough chatter, keep radio silence till we clear the channel, Shadow out," ripping her head set off, she flipped the controls over to her co-pilot.

"Take over, I'm going to inspect." Myka commanded, unstrapping herself from her harness.

"Sure, not like I can't handle this baby with just three engines," Pete smiled.

"I'll be back, Nancy, hike your skirt up, it's going to be a bumpy night," Myka winked, her hand gripping her co-pilots shoulder, then leaving the cockpit.

"How bad?" she asked when she come upon her mechanic and right gunner, Amanda.

"Just the usual flack hits, but that number two is going to need some overhaul," she replied, them lurching forward at the last spit of the engine dying.

"A complete overhaul," she murmured, their eyes locking.

"We can make it back to base?" Myka's eyes steady on her mechanic and friend.

"Just fly us home, Cap, I'll take care of the rest," smiling to Myka

**XXX**

After the de-briefing with Major Valda and all the crews, Myka headed for the back of the warehouse hangar, pulling the can of tuna fish out of her leather flight jacket.

She smiled to herself as she heard the faint meow echoing through the near empty hangar, her head down, concentrating on opening the can with her K-ration key.

"Here you go, Sammie," her smiling as the one-eyed black cat halted before her, the feline then sniffing at the fish smell that lingered on Myka's outstretched fingers.

She smiled, shaking her head as the cat backed away, it's head then turning to the can she had set down near the wheelbase of one of the new, RAF Spitfires that had just come in during their raid.

The cat had stopped, its hair standing on end, its tail bushy as it sniffed the wheel, turning the one good eye, blinking at her.

"Don't look at me, I didn't ask for these things," shrugging her shoulders as her fingers traced over the fuselage of the plane. "You know I love my flying fortress," Her thumb then rubbing over the blank spot where the name had yet to be painted on.

Myka turned, hearing a faint purr, her then letting out a sigh as she slunk down against one of the I-beams of the hanger. Watching as the skitteress feline sat back, tearing into the can of fish.

"We lost half our escorts, the RAF and us Yanks, and tail-end Charlie, tonight. They were just kids" she said, her hand coming up to her face, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed into the palm of her hand.

"I don't know how much longer I can do this," she whispered into her hand, "They need their **'ice queen'** , yeah, I know what they call me," then giving a half sob/chuckle as the cat rubbed its head against the tip of her boot after finishing it's meal. Slicking her hand over her nose, sniffling as she steadied herself. Wiping just under her eyes, wishing to will away the tears.

"Some **'cold-hearted, by the book bitch'** that I am," Myka then sucking a harsh breath, giving her head a quick shake.

The cat sat, licking its paw, then wiping it over its ear and jaw, its one eye half closed in silent contentment. Myka knew he was listening to her ramble even though he never looked at her, but his ears were pointed toward the sound of her voice.

"And you, you little snob, get to stay here, safe," Myka smiled to the feline as he laid next to her boot, her legs crossed over her ankles as her head thumped softly against the iron I-beam in the hangar. Her eyes, half closed, a lopsided grin forming as she watched the skittish cat then slowly make its way onto her shins, her legs parting just a bit as they, pilot and stray cat, settled.

She looked through half-lidded eyes; the half-moon shone its faint glow through the open hangar door, illuminating the polished aluminum of the fuselage of those new Spitfires's.

"The British are coming," Myka hummed in a low breath.

Sammie then looking up, his head jerked to the right at being disturbed from his post-meal nap. Then stretching as he rested his head on Myka's knee. "Sorry, little man, I know us '**Yanks**' have already invaded". Her fingers then brushing lightly on the crown of his head.

**XXX**

"Hey, hey hey, stop Major," Pete whispered as he grabbed Artie by the shoulder, pulling the older man away from the hangar door.

"I need to speak with Captain Bering," his bushy eyebrows raised, his eyes looking at the hand on his arm.

"Just give her a few more minutes, okay?" Pete was saying as he guided them away from the hanger. "She needs her post-flight ritual,"

Pete had been leaning back, his shoulder pressed against the door of the warehouse hangar, peaking in to check on his '**adopted'** sister every few minutes. Nobody knew of her break downs, of her weak side. **'Stoic. Ice Queen, by the book, Bering, ice runs through her veins'** would be whispered through their years together. Little did they know of her nightly ritual since their training days back in Colorado.

X

Their very first mission, their very first post-training flight in that old B-17 bomber, the landing gear had seized, Myka landing the plane on its belly, minutes before first grabbing the turret gunner out before touch down.

The flight crew had gathered around the still smoking plane, them looking to their new Captain, none saying a word as she came back around the plane with her new mechanic, Amanda. They all then stood straight, saluting her after she had inspected the damage to the bottom turret and landing gear.

"First round is one me," Pete said as he turned to the crew, rubbing his hands together with a big grin on his face. "Myka?" he asked. She had turned after returning the salute to her new flight crew, turning to look for furthest hanger away from everyone.

"Hey, wait up," Pete called out as he jogged down the airfield. Myka halted, her hand coming up to wipe at the tear on her cheek, faking to tucking a stray curl that had come loose from her tight bun, her back to her friend. A sharp breath was drawn as she cleared all emotion from her face, then turning.

"I need a **'few**', okay?" her body stone cold but Pete could see the storm raging in her eyes.

"Um, yeah. Okay, see you soon?" his thumb pointing over his shoulder. Myka just stood still, her head then tilting toward the old hanger. His stomach was in knots, the full force of unsaid pent up emotions from his captain and friend hit him like a ton of bricks.

Myka watched for a few seconds as Pete walked down the landing strip before she turned, bee-lining for the refuge away from everyone.

He turned, and then silently followed behind as he watched her go into the empty building, collapsing down in the empty hangar, her adrenaline shaking her body as she leaned against an old plane.

He was about to come in, an orange cat rushing then between his feet, causing him to trip and fall just outside. He held in his curse as he started to push himself up, then freezing at the site before him.

He lay on the cold asphalt, watching the stray, ratty cat rub up against his captain. **"What the hell**?" he whispered to himself, then wiped the small cut on his chin against his arm as he had just crossed them, resting his jaw on his arms, his body prone outside the hangar door as he watched the scene unfold.

Myka had turned, smiling down at the flea-bitten orange tabby. "And where did you come from?" she whispered as she reached into the pocket of her flight jacket.

"**Hey!**" Pete then shutting his mouth at Myka offering up his **'snack**' she always would keep stashed for him.

"**Better have cookies in the mess hall**," Pete mumbled into his forearms, his legs crossing as he laid still, watching his best friend open the can, humming softly as she set the can down, then backing down against the tire of one of the planes.

He watched as she wiped at her cheeks, sniffling as she raised her head to look out the hangar window above. The glow of the half-moon shining down on them both.

"We made it," Myka half laughed, shaking her head, a few curls coming loose from her tight bun. Then all her emotions came pouring out, tears streaming down her cheeks as she rattled off everything that went wrong with the flight, of her having, no, needing to make sure all her people would live to see the sun rise.

She bumped the back of her head a few times against the tire, forcing herself to stop crying at the thought of losing anyone under her charge. **'With war, there are casualties'** the voice of her training office echoing in her head.

"But not tonight," she whispered, her head bowed, watching the shed tears pool on the floor. The content purring shaking her from her thoughts.

"See you tomorrow, same time?" Myka had said, wiping her cheeks as she stood up, her eyes smiling as the tatty feline rubbed her leg, licking at the few pieces of his meal stuck on his whiskers as he softly meow his thanks.

Every night, after each flight, Pete would sneak, following Myka to that old hanger, watching as she fed the orange tom cat. Each night, grateful that they had made it safely back to the ground.

X

"So, you think Lucky 13 will miss you?" Pete had asked as they flew over the English Channel towards their assignment.

"Who?" Myka asked, never looking at him as she adjusted the flaps, readying their descent on to the airfield.

"That orange cat of yours, back in C-town, the one you met up with every night in hangar 13?" his eyes darting sideways at her.

"You spied on me?" Myka huffing as she leaned the collar forward, alighting the bomber down on the tarmac.

"Hey, just saying, we all have rituals and from the looks of things, you and that cat have kept us alive," Pete was saying as they taxied down the runway.

"Maybe you can find a **'friend**' over here?" Pete had said as they unloaded their gear, him then hitting Myka's arm, her head popping over her duffle bag with a death glare that would usually send Pete running. But, instead, he just smiled and nodded his head toward the old building down the strip. A quick flash of black fur had raced behind it, then peaking, with one good eye around the corner of the hangar.

**XXX**

"Damn pilots and this nonsense with superstitions" Artie grumbled. "If she wasn't the best, I would have her and your ass transferred state-side,"

"Hey, those** rituals** keep us coming back," Pete said, his boyish charm leaving his eyes as he looked down at the Tarmac.

"Fine, but when she is done, I need her in my office at 0600, got it!"

"Yes, sir!" Pete stood straight, saluting the Major.

"Also, I need an update on the repairs to the Shadow from … what's her name, that mechanic," Artie waving his hand over to the plane sitting on the Tarmac.

"Amanda, her name is Amanda and she said the number two engine needs a complete overhaul and some patch work where we got some flack," his eyes trained on the man as he lowered his salute.

"Down time?" Pete was hopeful.

"You can't fly, right?"

"Yeah ...right?" Artie's eyes rose as he looked at his number two pilot.

"Go, get the hell out of here," he gruffed. "But, make sure you have Myka back here for new orders, got it?"

"Got it boss, Sir, Moi captain," Pete was saying as he started to turn back to the hanger, jogging backwards as he saluted.

"That is **MAJOR** Neilson to you!" Artie shouted to the retreating form.

"Children, I work with children," he grumbled.

Artie was walking back toward headquarters, his papers then flying up out of his hands as he stopped in his tracks at the shadow figure in front of him. His hands fidgeting, his body bending, then snapping up as he saluted the General in front of him.

"General Fredrick," his words sputtering out as he first saluted, then bending down to retrieve the papers, only to snap back up at the clearing of her throat.

"I ... I was just going to see Captain Bering and …" his mouth closing in a snap at the raised hand in front of him.

"Have you talked with Captain Bering yet about these new mission?" her eyebrow arching.

"Not yet," he sighed, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "I gave them a week's leave while the Shadow is repaired," clearing his throat as he looked at the ground.

"Good, a weeks' time shall be sufficient," the general said, before turning, she addressed him.

"And of any hint to her new escort?"

"No! no? I did not speak with her yet." Artie then twisting at the words of her question.

"Should I?"

"No, not for now Arthur, let's see how things play out. This mission is vital to the war … let's say, that a rather unique bond has to be established between pilot and escort for success, if we are to win this war, each battle must be won , Major Neilson"

"And we are winning each battle with Myka at the forefront and …" Artie shaking his head at the empty air. He had turned to step on a piece of paper he had yet to grab off the ground, the General disappearing as quickly as she had appeared.

**XXX**

"Come on grumpy pants, London is calling!" Pete grinning as he burst into the female quarters, the doors slapping at the walls as they bounced.

"What the hell!" Claudia jumped, her notepad clutched against her chest, Amanda smirking as she stood up, readjusting her coveralls, grabbing her tool belt.

"London is it?" Amanda smirked as she placed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Sorry babe, but Artie only gave me two passes and, I quote **'You and Captain Bering,**' "raising his fingers in the air, dipping them with quotes.

"It's okay, I have to ready the Shadow anyways," her smiling as she walked out the door. "Besides, we all know it would be incest with you and Myka," her shoulders bristling at her words.

"Ewww, did not need to hear that," Claudia said as she shut her journal, "It would be like Josh and I and … now I have to throw up, thanks for that," Claudia shouted to the closing doors as she got up, heading to latrine. Myka was grinning as she hiked her book up to cover her smile.

"So … London?" Myka said after Claudia had rushed out of the dorm. "You and me? Tearing the town up and showing these Brits how things are done by us Yanks?" Myka grinned.

"That's what I am talking about!" as Pete pointed to her, then rushing to help pack up her gurney sack.

"Say? Do you have any civvies,? A dress or something?" Pete was asking, his back turned as he held up the pants Myka had.

"And why would I need a dress? My dress uniforms are it and civvie shirts and pants" she said, her back turned as she packed up her gurney.

"Just saying, what if you met the man of your dreams, or woman?" his eyes shooting up as Myka's fist was raised toward him.

"Geezs Myka, I have no idea what you date. It's not like I have ever seen you with anyone, besides that scruffy cat in hanger 13?" Myka punched Pete's arm after they had loaded their gear into the jeep.

X

"Hey, I'm just saying that if you are into Pu …" Pete grinning as they raced through the English country side.

"If you finish that heathen thought," Myka said, punching Pete's arm again.

"Look, Myka. I know when we lose people in our squad, it hits you hard," Pete was saying, his shoulder hiking up, and ready for the next punch that never came. He opened the one eye he had squinted shut, ready for the **'wrath of Myka**' but none was forthcoming, he pulled the jeep aside.

Setting the parking brake, he turned; tapping on her shoulder, her head was turned toward the forest. Trying her best to ignore him.

"Hey?" poking his finger at her.

"What?" Myka said, her face still turned away.

Pete was always there for his friend, after meeting at the army air corps training base in Colorado Springs those many years ago; Myka was cold and stand-offish with the pilots-in-training, most ignoring her throughout training. Pete had overheard grumblings and petty jealousies from some of the others as the training officers would praise her almost unnatural abilities at flight. Of her always receiving the highest scores on any and all written assignments.

He was reminded of his younger days in school, how the other kids ostracized his sister because of her deafness. Watching Myka those first few weeks, reminded him of his sister and so he felt it his duty to strike up a friendship with her after hearing some of the others referencing her as '**Ice Queen'.**

Many a fight and plenty of trips to the principal's office in high school almost deterred his officer's commission, "Can you believe it? I mean the army knows about all those fights I got into in school," Pete mumbled between mouthfuls as they sat, just the two them at one of the tables in the mess hall.

"The government is all knowing, Lattimer," Myka shaking her head at the amount of food Pete could consume in one sitting. Myka always grabbing a few cans of spam and tuna fish to shove in her pockets before leaving the mess hall. Ready to hand one over to him during long training flights, '**So I don't have to listen to the roar of your stomach over the engines'** she would say with a stern look on her face.

Her smile faded as she cleared her throat, "Pete. I just want to thank you," her words coming out softly.

"For what? Oh, are you going to eat that?" him leaning over with his fork, stabbing at the slab of ham Myka didn't finish on her tray.

"For helping me to…" Myka sighed, rubbing the back of her neck as she slid her tray to him, "For helping me find my voice when I had none," Pete raised his eyes from her food tray, a quizzical look forming as he chewed. Myka sighed as she knew she would have to go into more detail.

"For taking me under your wing, so to speak. Without you pushing me to ignore those asses that were jealous and to be the best officer and pilot … what?" Myka asked, becoming annoyed at the grin spreading.

"The ice queen said **ass**," Pete chuckled. "My work is done with you,"

"Shut up and finish chewing your food, with your mouth closed," Myka them smiling as Pete bumped her shoulder.

X

Their one kiss, on a drunken night of leave had killed all thoughts of anything physical between them. Pete had woken that morning, his head pounding, and his mind screaming 'no no no, please tell me nothing happen'.

Him then sighing in relief' at the sight of Myka, peacefully sleeping on the make-shift bed on the floor of her apartment near the base. It hit him like a ton of bricks that morning, Myka was like his sister, always looking out for him, hell, even though he had been a sloppy drunk that night, rambling on about how the ladies loved **'little Pete**' as she helped him up the stairs.

"Sure they do," Myka patting Pete's head as they made it inside the room.

Folding out her bed for him, Pete had grabbed Myka, not hard but more clumsy, as she bent over him, tucking the blank around him. The kiss was sloppy, his lips connecting more with her chin than anything else. "I love you, Myke's," Pete slurred as he fell back on the foldaway couch. "You're like the sister I never had,"

"You have a sister, Pete," Myka rubbing her arm against her chin to remove his slobber as she turned, grabbing a few blankets.

"The floor, it is," she sighed as she made a small nest out of the blankets on the floor.

"But she is not here and you are, so that makes you my sister," Pete mumbled into his pillow.

"Good night, Pete" her yawning as she cocooned herself on the floor.

Watching and praying to the porcelain God for half the morning, he told Myka how he felt, that he really needed to stop drinking. That was a somber moment that was then interrupted, both listening to the radio as news poured in on the invasion in Poland.

"He needs to be stopped," Myka whispered.

"Who?" Pete was shaking, his hand hovering over the bottle of Gin Myka had at her place.

"Hitler," Myka replied as she walked into her kitchen, grabbing a glass of water for him. Her heart was in her throat as she watched Pete's hand tremble over the bottle.

"Pete?'

"Myka, I need help?" his hands shaking, his head falling into her shoulder after she had come to the couch, crying as she smoothed over his back.

"I've heard of this guy and a small group, Bill W. is his name," she said over her shoulder as she turned on the water, her hand tested the water, then smiling up as Pete leaned against the open door of her small bathroom.

"Come on, big brother, a bath will help. While you are in here, I am going to see if I can find this guy," Myka, her brow scrunched with worry as she closed the door behind him.

**XXX**

Pete rolled his eyes as he opened the door to the adjoining rooms they shared at the small Bed and breakfast place just outside of London.

"Come on Mykes, it's been almost a full day since we got here and all you have done is hole up in this place, reading," Pete huffed. "Or in that park, still, reading!"

The first day in London was trying her last nerve. Exhausted from the drive on those rock hard seats in the jeep and the last mission, all she wanted was some quiet time to herself to relax for a day or two. Tired of Pete constantly interrupting her reading with childish pleads to **'check out the not old stodgy sites, if know what I mean'** waggling his eyebrows.

"That's it!" Myka slamming her book shut as she got off the bed, "Pete, why don't you and** 'little Pete**' go ogle the sites without me " Myka grabbing her civvies jacket, "I am going to find some peace and quiet," Myka huffed as she put her jacket on, then shoving a book under her arm as she marched out the door.

Myka brushed away the orange and red leaves from her lap that fell after finding the perfect bench under the Maple tree in the park near downtown. This first afternoon, she had spied the slight-build woman coming toward her, her manner of dress catching her eye as she ran by her. Myka had lowered her book at the strange sight. She thinking that maybe the woman was military by the color of training clothes that were similar to the one's she wore while training in the army.

"Excuse me, but may I?' Myka nodded and slightly lifted her eyes to the shoe the woman was re tying as she set her foot on the wooden slats of the bench near her.

"Good read?" that soft accent filling her ears.

"Sort of, War of The Worlds," Myka chuckled as she held the front of the book up, her forefinger pressed into the page she had left on.

"Very aperope," the soft accent thickening as she finished tying her shoe. "Considering all that is happening around us." the woman then was standing straight, her hand reaching up and behind to smooth over her tight ponytail, then dropping to point toward a burnt out shell of a building in the distance.

"That was the Vicar building the family owned, before the attack. Been in their family for over three hundred years." Myka could just detect a slight hint of meloncollie in the voice as the woman's eyes were trained on the burnt out ruble.

Myka watched as the woman gave a slight shake of her head then turning to face Myka as she continued, "They had the most quaint little tea room," she could hear the change of cadence in the voice as she continued, Myka then placing her book in her lap, giving the woman her undivided attention. Something about how she addressed Myka directly, herself finding, for a fleeting moment the need to remind herself to breath as expressive Mahogany eyes held hers.

"Where are my manners!" the woman then moving into Myka's personal space as she extended her hand out, "Helena, by way of Essex," her smile was almost blinding though the day was clouded over. Myka looked at the proffered hand, slender, almost delicate fingers melded into a firm palm, slightly tinged with callouses and a pink hue was offset by the pale, almost porcelain white skin that traversed a beautifully sculpted arm.

"And you are?" the accent shaking Myka out of her thoughts, her then clearing her throat, praying that the warmth she was feeling on her cheeks were caused out of the sun trying to peek through the clouds.

"I'm sorry, I got lost there for a moment, Myka, by way of Colorado," she smiled as she felt the warmth of this woman's palm pressing against hers. Myka ducked her head down, shuffling her book off her lap as a diverted tactic, praying that her teenage lament of blushing at the wrong time had not come back to haunt her.

"Well, Myka, by way of Colorado, I must excuse myself, time is fleeting and I must run," Helena smiling as she held their entwined hands, turning Myka's as she bowed, gently kissing the back of Myka's hand.

"Are you always this chivalrous?" Myka trying to weigh her voice as to not come off as a giddy school girl as their hands parted.

"We shall see," Helena smiled as she started off, winking over her shoulder

Myka taking note of the time as the lithe figure jogged away from her, "Same time, tomorrow?"

Closing her mouth as quickly as she said those words. 'Where is this boldness coming from?' she wondered to herself. Never, in all her years had she, Myka Bering, been this bold and flirtatious with a complete strange.

"Only Queen and crown shall deter me," Myka shaking her head as she re opened her book.

"No cockiness there," she mumbled, the faint figure slowly ebbing from her eye sight.

X

"Believe it or not, some people find books entertaining,"

"Really? The greatest bomber pilot in the entire world is a book nerd?" Pete throwing his arms up as he set down the bag. "I mean, come on! Do you have any idea how many men; women would be falling at your feet? I mean, you, in your dress browns, your rep as a pilot?"

"No, and you know I am not like that," her voice soft as she closed her book, rising up, grabbing at her gunny sack as she walked into the bathroom.

"I mean, geezes, Mykes, we are in London, a week pass and all you have done is hole up, reading!" Pete huffed as he pulled out the newspaper wrapped fish and chips.

After he finished off his fish and chips. Myka came out of the loo, the steam swirling around her, her hands brushing down her uniform.

"What?"

"Nothing?" Pete throwing his hands in the air. "Does this mean you want to go out?"

"Only if it means it will shut you up about all of this," Myka was saying as she grabbed her wallet, her facing smiling as she found a few American bills mixed with pounds.

"Come on Lattimer. Time to show a girl a fun time," Myka smiled, hooking her arm into his as they made their way down the street.

The pub they final settled on was noisy, Myka bumping shoulders with a few sots as she mapped out her space at the bar. Rubbing at the hairs that stood up on the back of her neck. 'Am I being watched' she mumbled, nodding her head in thanks at the pint set in front of her.

"Hey, I thought you stopped?" her hand covering the pint that the bartender set in front of Pete.

"I did, I am, hold that thought," Pete grinned as he handed the beer to a man standing behind him.

"Thanks, cheers" the man said as he hoisted his glass. "You two stationed near by?"

Myka eyed the man carefully as she raised her glass, looking the man up and down over the rim of her glass, "We are on leave," Myka responded, a little curt.

"Well, the next round is one me, cheers!" both Myka and Pete watching the man move through the crowd, making his way closer to the loud singing coming from the far side of the pub.

"Oi oi oi!" the slamming of fists and glasses on the wooden tables startled Myka as she looked behind her, her breath hitching at the beauty that had her glass raised, singing with the crowd of admirers that surrounded her. Then leaning in as the blonde man who was just chatting with them said something next to Helena's ear.

"Everyone!" the man then banging on the table as the crowd settled, "Seems we have be graced tonight by a couple of brave soldiers from America, let's give them a proper welcome!" the man then raising his hands, waving as if his conducting London Philharmonic himself.

Pete grinned as the crowd started to sing, "The Yanks are coming, the yanks are coming " the rowdy group still singing as Myka turned back to the bartender,  
"Say, would you have any whiskey?" the man behind the bar just grinned, "None of the Kentucky stuff, sorry, love." his face then lighting up as he looked past Myka.

"Don't be such a wanker, Charlie. There is a bottle of that **'Jack'** bourbon behind the bar. Let's show a proper welcome," Myka turned at the sound of that familiar voice. Only now, they were both standing, the woman, again, was invading Myka's personal space.

"I see that we meet again, Myka, by way of Colorado," Helena then holding Myka's hand, bowing her head to brush her lips against the back of her hand.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N I will try to update every week with this story. Thank you for all the follows, favs and reviews. Have never been a slave to reviews, but they have helped to inspire me, again, thank you.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Syfy.**

* * *

"Are you always been this dapper?" Myka grinned as she set her book down on the park bench.

"You did not stay long enough to form an educated opinion last night," Myka detecting that slight meloncollie cadence in her voice from their previous meeting in the park, of when Helena was speaking of the Vicar building.

Helena let the small curve of a smile wash over her lips as she watched Myka slid her arm over the top of the bench toward her. Helena just minutely feeling the slight warmth of the woman's fingers that inched near her bent head as she tied her shoe.

"True, but in my defense, my co-pilot was dragging me away, if you remember correctly," Myka smiled, turning half way to meet the woman's eyes as Helena sat down next to her on the park bench.

"So, Myka, by way of Colorado. You are an American pilot?" Helena had raised her leg, propping her heel on the edge of the wooden slats, stretching and pulling at her knee.

"Something like that, yes." Helena's eyes glancing sideways at the woman as she bowed her head to her knee.

"Ah, Army training," Helena saying into her knee.

"And what of 'Army training'?" Myka asked, trying to control the fierce strain of her back muscles stiffening up at this line of questioning.

"Just the gossip of the rigorous training you 'Yank' flyboys had to endure," Helena then dropping her leg down from the bench, twisting and stretching her foot and ankle. The long stretch of those legs, then ankles crossing over each other did not escape Myka's eye. Her trying to fight the urge to withdraw, to raise her 'walls'.

"Your meaning?" Myka asked. Her arm withdrawing from the top of the bench, away from Helena. A split second of fluster was had as to what to do with her hands. Her fighting back the urge to cross her arms defiantly over her chest to form a protective wall against the rapid beating muscle. Never had her heart warred so violently against her calm, analytical mind.

"We do share," Helena said, the retreat, the stiffness not going undetected by her. Myka looked up, her eyes trained on the bridge of Helena's nose, not daring to look into her eyes as she continued, "Our countries I mean, share a unique bond. Many a gossip has been had of the training the American army has subjected it's warriors to. The rigors of interrogation if one is captured by the enemy," both women then leaning their elbows to rest their weight on their thighs, staring at the worn path beneath their feet.

"I understand the reluctance …" Helena's voice breaking the strained silence between the two.

"Again I ask your meaning?" Myka said, her hands then cradling her jaw, turning slightly as she looked at the woman from the corner of her eye.

"Your reluctance to share anything of yourself," Helena matching Myka, cradling her jaw in her hands as she looked over to the woman sitting next to her. "I would have not the foggiest that you were, are, a pilot, if not for the chance meeting at my family's public house last night,"

"True," Myka smiled. "And, my thoughts of you …" Helena then leaning back as she watched Myka wave a shy hand up and down near her," of you, your attire does not exactly match the women here," Myka then blushing, pushing her raised face back to the semi-safety of her hands, her fingers splaying against her warming cheeks as she pressed her chin into her palms.

"And now," Helena raising an eyebrow, "it is my volley, your meaning?" Helena trying to restrain the storm of mixed emotions clawing at her chest.

"It's just …" Myka's fingers that splayed across her cheeks, now turned her head to address her, "when I saw you the first day, jogging by me. And now, you reminded me of the training sweats I would wear when in basic," Myka shrugged, hoping to downplay and hide the raging of her confusion.

"You are military?"

"Yes, but I try to down play that part of myself whilst endeavoring to pursue a special curiosity,"

Myka felt her body relaxing at the words spoken, that small worry in the back of her mind, of this wanton draw to this woman, of a strange and unique bond, was just the woman's way, she thought.

"So, I am a curiosity?" Myka smiling to herself. "Just another 'flyboy' in a uniform?" hurt and confusion mixing with a slight, hidden ego.

"If you are implying that I wished you a notch in my lipstick case," Helena turning to clear, green eyes. "Then, yes. But seeing as the first encounter of your lovely self was and is now, in your civilian clothes. Yes, that thought had crossed my mind," Helena crossing her arms across her waist, side-eyeing the woman seated next to her.

"I have not forgotten the use of 'special' before the other word," Myka feeling a calm inside her chest, her 'Ice Queen's' veneer wavering. Her mind clicking, subduing the race of her heart that this beauty sitting next to her … desired her?

'For a fling?' Myka mumbled.

"Something to that effect," Helena chuckled.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Did I just say that out loud?" Myka clapping her hand over her mouth. Her head screaming to will herself from hyperventilating. Sucking in the heavy air through her nose, Myka forced down her panic as she blew out the steady stream of air through her barely parted lips.

"Until last night, until you saw me in my dress Greens?" Myka thanking the Gods that she had one functioning brain cell for that retort.

"That, coupled with the fact that something, unspoken, happen-chanced upon our first meeting ..." Helena sighed as she shifted against the hard, wooden slates pressing into her back. Her fingers gripping tighter around her arms as she gathered her thoughts.

"You are due more than just a notch," Helena whispered. Myka watching as the woman shook her head slightly. Her head leaning back to rest on the back of the bench, the shadow of gray tinting her beautiful features were highlighted from the rays of the sun from the parting gray clouds that had hung over the park this day.

"You are more than the sum of your thoughts, of that uniform, that cocoons your true soul,"

Myka raised her eyes from her down-turned head, her brow furrowing at the words softly spoken.

"Are you always such a wordsmith?" Myka turning her head quickly as Helena's eyes snapped open, staring at her profiled face.

Helena stood up, turning her body back toward the path, speaking over her shoulder, "I must run, again. Duty calls," her eyes downcast as she smoothed her training sweats down. Helena started to jog down the path, halting as Myka's soft sigh filled her ears, her words dancing through her brain.

"So, I guess this is goodbye?" Myka then reaching for her book, her eyes downcast as she thumbed through the pages for her bookmark.

Helena jogged backwards, stopping in front of the woman, "I surmise that we shall meet again, Myka, by way of Colorado," Helena then grabbing gently at Myka's hand, warm lips brushing against cool skin.

"Until then, my Ice Queen," Helena quickly releasing Myka's hand as she sprinted down the path.

X

"Pete?"

"Yeah, Myke's?" Pete asked as he helped to unload their gunny sacks from the jeep minutes after pulling up to the barracks.

"Does everyone refer to my call name as Ice Queen?" Myka throwing her gunny sack over her shoulder.

"Well? Sort of Myka. You know how superstitious us fly boys are," Pete never looking at her as he unloaded the jeep. Him then nodding over to the far warehouse down the tarmac, "Seems someone does not think that,"

"Sammie," Myka whispered as she tossed her sack down, then digging for the can in it.

"Why do you ask?" Myka ignoring his question as she headed for the feline. The can in hand as she opened it.

"Nothing … no matter," Myka said over her shoulder as she headed for the warehouse, the black, ratty fur zipping between her legs as she walked. "Talk to you tomorrow at briefing?"

"Yeah, sure thing," Pete sighed.

Him remembering back to that night in the pub, the blonde man pulling him aside as the crowd sang.

"Is that really her?" he whispered to Pete, them both watching as Myka leaned back against the bar on her elbows in her full dress Greens, Helena inching closer as the woman moved back.

"Her, who?" Pete asked as he felt his gut tightening up.

"The Ice Queen, you know ...? The great Captain Bering?" his shoulder nudging Pete's as he nodding to the women over at the bar.

"And you are?" Pete's hinky feeling building with each tick of the clock.

"Where are my manners?" the man setting his glass down on the empty spot on the table, extending his hand, "Sargent William Wolcott, RAF, at your service," the man's grin then falling a bit as he looked at his unshaken hand, hanging in the space between them.

"Yeah, sorry. Lieutenant Lattimer, Army Air core." Pete then extending his hand to the man. His eyes shifting to the bar, watching the interaction between the two women.

"So, is she really _'the_' Ice Queen?" Wolly's eyebrows rose, clinking his pint of dark stout against the glass of tonic Pete had brought over with him.

"The one and only," Pete's voice hesitant. "I think she is only into women," nodding to the two of them.

"Well, so is the _'Midnight Angel_' over there," his head nodding to the women.

"No! Really? She is the_ Angel_?" Pete' eyes widening as he watched his best friend smile, her head falling back as the dark haired woman whispered against her ear.

"Twenty three Messier kills?"

"And twelve notches in her bed post, but from the looks of things, thirteen?" him looking over the rim of his pint glass.

"Not tonight," Pete growled under his breath, "So good to meet you Sargent Wol …"

"Please, call me Wolly," his head nodding as he set his pint down.

"Yeah, Wolly, be seeing you?" Pete was saying as he rushed to Myka's side, pulling her away from the _'Angel'._

"Come on, Myke's. got to go," him rushing them out of the pub. Myka's eyes were wide as her fingers had slid away from the glass Helena had just bought them.

"What the hell, Pete!" Myka trying to fight off her co-pilots tugging.

"I just …" his eyes darting to the woman who had followed them out, then looking at Wolly as he tighten his arm around Helena.

"I can't be around all this alcohol. You know ...," his hand clenching at his gut, "One day at a time and all that," pulling Myka behind him as he rushed them back to the inn.

X

"We have a new group of escorts and a new tail-end Charlie coming in from the RAF. Major Valda will coordinate with the Brits for us," Major Neilson handing out packets to the pilots. Myka frowning as he skipped over her.

"There will be special assignments tasked to the lead pilots, Captain Bering will be lead commander while in flight for those chosen for the special missions." Myka's head shooting up at his words, her hand following almost as fast as his words as it shot up.

"Major Neilson?" Myka was starting to ask.

"Briefing for the special assignment will follow after this debriefing," Major Valda speaking up, his eyes training on the rest as he barked, "Dismissed,"

"Major Valda?" Myka fighting her way through the onslaught of exiting pilots from the room. Soon, it was only her, the Majors and Pete standing in the quiet room, "What of these special missions and new escorts?"

"You and the crew of the Shadow have been assigned special reconnaissance with the two new RAF escort planes," Major Valda then turning to his American counterpart. "You, of course, commanding the lead, "the man speaking into the maps and papers Artie had handed him. Never looking up at Myka as he spoke.

"Am I, I mean the Shadow, being grounded?" Myka gritting her teeth, trying to hold back the anger building at the thought of not leading her squadron into battle.

"Captain Bering?" a soft, unfamiliar voice was ignored as she stood closer to the two men.

"Why am I being pulled?" Myka's fists were clenched as she neared them.

"Captain Bering!" the voice commanding the room as it rose, all snapping their heads to the source.

"A moment of your time?" all in the room snapping to attention, their hands rushing to salute the general who walked forward.

"As you were," her dismissing them. "Except for you, captain Bering,"

Pete rushed behind Artie's retreating form, his head whipping back to look at Myka, 'What the heck?' him mouthing in silence as Myka subtly shrugged her shoulders.

"Major Valda?" the stoic woman then glaring at the man.

"I have yet to debrief Captain Bering on the retro fitting on the Shadow," his voice fading as the general raised an eyebrow.

"What retrofitting?" Myka glaring at the Major, her then backing a step as her eyes met the general.

"Major Valda?" her eyes shooting to the door of the briefing room.

"Yes, of course. You're 'need to know' and all," he said as he gathered up the papers from the desk. "Just remember, general, my compatriots are flying escort on this," him then giving a salute to the woman as he turned to exit the room.

"I have not forgotten that fact Major Valda, and speaking of which …" her hands clasping together as she stood in front of Myka, "Have they arrived yet?" her hand then raising as her head dipped down, looking at the hands of her watch.

"The 'angel' always makes her appointed time," his jaw jutting up, his eyes then nervously looking at the clock above their heads. "She has a window of forty five minutes before touch down, general."

Both women watching as a single bead of sweat slowly creeped down from the sandy-haired temple.

'Angel?' Myka whispered to herself behind the general.

"Captain Wells, her call name the 'Midnight Angel'.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

Myka rushed out of the de-briefing room, never have been given a complete answer to her question of the retrofitting on her plane. She shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun as she scanned the people who had gathered near the airstrip.

"Claudia," she sighed as she went up to her bombardier, gently pulling at her elbow. Guiding them away from the small crowd.

"The general said that you are working on a camera array with the Shadow?" her voice laced with confusion as she pulled the young woman aside, all too aware to the building crowd on the tarmac. "You have known about this for how long?" Myka's eyes narrowing caused the young girl to step back. Claudia gulped back the urge to run at her captain's rigid stance and ice cold stare.

Only a flash of gold moved from her commander.

"Remember what I showed you, in my notebook?" Myka nodding slowly as she unfurrowed her arms that had been clenched around her chest, nodding for the girl to continue.

"Well, you know that I was working on a better way to see our hits because that old lens is almost total useless and Eastman-Kodak has come out with this bee's knees, great new lens and camera array that I started tinkering with and … I am rambling on and causing your eyes to gloss over and …" Claudia backing up as Myka slowly stepped towards her.

"Slow down there Einstein, I sort of understand what you are saying," Myka reached her arm out, stopping just in mid-air as her bombardier froze in place at the rare display of emotion. Claudia squinting her eyes, then shaking her head at the quick glimpse of gold that shimmered in the ice green backdrop.

"_If you ever see those weird gold thingy's flash in her eyes, its okay" Pete hugging Claudia as they walked through the belly of the flying fortress after a close call that one night, two years ago after their assignment in England._

"_But she is the 'Ice Queen' and …?" Claudia bowing her head as Pete lead them down the stairs of the plane, them turning, watching as Myka ran her hands over the flack hits from their mission near the tail end of the Shadow, Amanda following close behind as she noted the areas that Myka pointed out._

"_Like I said, when those gold things show in her eyes, it means she likes you." Pete then kissing the side of red hair, pulling the girl close to him. "Trust me, it's a good thing."_

"_Even after I was off-target by one hundred feet? I thought she was going to rip my head off when she came storming back there after the drop!" Claudia then looking up, nodding her head toward their captain's retreating form to the last warehouse down the tarmac._

"_We got the munitions depot, right? Not the school it was next to?" Pete said, turning the girl around to walk the other way._

"_Yeah, we did," Claudia sighed. "But what the heck is up with that?" Claudia nodding behind her as they walked to mess hall._

"_Fly-boys superstition, just leave it. Be happy you got that flash of gold," Pete pulling the girl closer against him as he opened the the mess hall door with his other hand._

"_Is food all you think about?" Claudia smiling as they grabbed at the cans that were left on the counter for the night crew. The clanks and clatters of the cooks were muffled by the wooden doors leading into the kitchen, them preparing the morning meal for the camp._

_Claudia watched as her co-captain peeled open the can of spiced ham, cutting away chucks with his knife._

"_Ewe, no thanks," Claudia shaking her head at the sliver of meat on Pete's blade that had been offered up to her._

"_So, Captain Bering likes me?"_

**X**

"Captain Bering?" the clear voice snapping Myka around, releasing Claudia from her grip.

"Yes, Ma'am, General Frederick?" her hand snapping up in a crisp salute.

"We never finished your debriefing," the older woman's hand slipping around Myka's arm after returning her salute, leading them away from the growing group. Claudia had let out a loud, audible sigh as she turned away from the women. The general had nodded to the far strip of the field, her eyebrow raised at the young woman.

Claudia had clasped her hands together as she raced down the field toward Pete and Josh, thanking the Gods to be at her release from the presents of the only two people she had grown to respect besides her brother Josh, and also scared the heck out of her.

"And to answer your question as to why the Shadow requires special escort duty, please" her hand waving to the far hangar where the Shadow was being repaired.

"Ma'am, general. I meant no disrespect …" the older woman flipping her hand in the air, dismissing the words as they walked.

"None taken. I would expect nothing less from you, as a well trained, seasoned and caring pilot to be concerned for the safety of her crew,"

Myka's eyes shot a questioning glance, her brow furrowed at the choice of, the use of 'caring' in the general's words.

"As soon as the new camera array is fitted, you and your crew will be briefed with each new mission, Captain Bering," the woman stopping them in front of the hanger doors to the old warehouse.

"Yes ma'am," her head turning to the sound of the Spitfire gunning its engine overhead. Myka knowing that sound meant a 'fly-by' over the tower or a dangerous roll to make the landing strip.

"Myka! It's the 'Angel!" she shouted toward the two women. Claudia bouncing on her heels as she watched the planes start to land. Myka gave a small wave, acknowledging the girl's excited shout towards her.

"She sort of idolizes the Angel," Myka's lips were starting to give way from their tight, restrained line. "Hero worship," Myka then turned to face general, allowing her a brief second to clasp her hands behind her back.

"Have you met Captain Wells?" Irene allowing a small curve to her lips, hoping to ease the radiating tension from her best pilot. Hence, walking them over to Myka's refuge. She would never let on about knowing how Myka would come here, allowing a for a few rare moments of emotional release.

"No ma'am. Just mainly her accomplishments from Claudia's obsessive reading of the newspaper at mess," Myka then returning the general's small smile.

"We should talk," General Frederick pulling Myka toward the warehouse.

"Your new escort …" General Fredric's voice fading as she watched the RAF roll, then making a hairpin turn on the landing strip after touchdown.

Myka fought with every fiber of her being not to release the eye contact the general held on her. A hard, unseen pull grasped at her chest, wanting, needing to watch as the planes drew near. She let a small breath of air escape between her lips as her eyes followed the older woman's down the field.

Myka swallowed down the hard lump stuck at the top of her throat. "My ... the Shadow's new escort?" she replied as she watched the planes taxi down the runway, turning to the general who stood next to the hanger down at the end of the field with her.

"We must be true to our reflection, to our own inner battles,"

"I'm sorry, Ma'am?" Myka standing straight, her back snapping to attention as she faced the general, hiding her confusion to the meaning behind the words.

"At ease, captain, Myka, may I?" the younger woman nodding as she followed the general into the warehouse. "Without a doubt, without question, you, Captain Bering, are the most gifted pilot I have had the privilege to command."

"Thank you, ma'am," Myka following the older woman, watching as she brushed her fingers over the bare, no named fuselage of the Spitfire. The same one she had admired that night in the hanger, Sammie weaving in between her legs.

"Fears and insecurities must be faced. A balance of heart and mind, of passion and thought will lead to true fulfillment," the woman turning as she spoke the last of her words, her fingers lingering on the cool aluminum of the plane.

Myka stood in silence, her hands clasped behind her back in an 'at-ease' stance. "This unique bond, of trust between commander and lead escort must be nurtured, without prejudice. These missions must succeed, no matter the cost; trust your sensibilities, understood?"

Myka's chin tilted up, her jaw clenched, the muscles flexing under her high cheekbones as she stepped forward, her hands clasping in front of her.

"Yes ma'am," was the only response she could muster, her head was spinning with a thousand questions, her heart feeling as though it would smash right through her chest. Myka fought the overwhelming need to bite her lower lip to quell all the question racing through her mind.

"Amanda and Claudia will debrief you on the inner workings of the camera array." the woman gentle prodding her best pilot out of the warehouse toward the runway after they exited the hangar, "Go, meet your other half, Captain Bering,"

"Ma'am?" Myka turning around to face the door, "What if we do not …" Myka stood still, the empty space on the tarmac was replaced by the roar of two plane engines. Myka turned at the faint meow she heard coming from the corner of the building.

"You saw her too, right Sammie?" Myka asked as she opened the can of fish she retrieved from her leather, flight jacket pocket. The scruffy cat raised it head, its ears moving back on his head as the sound of the Spitfires grew closer.

"Got to go, little man," Myka smiling as she set the can down, her looking over her shoulder as she headed toward her fellow men and women gathering to meet the newest members. The news of the great ace, HG Wells, joining their ranks had spread like wildfire throughout the base while her and Pete were in London.

Myka watched, repressing the enthralled feelings trying to bubble up as the planes taxied to the warehouse. The engines winding down. The canopies on the top of the cockpits sliding open… Myka's breath was held as she watched leather boots set down on the old asphalt, the lead pilot removing her head gear and goggles, the radiance of that smile pulled the air from Myka's lungs.

"Helena?"she whispered.

"So then, where shall we park?" Helena's hand stilling half way from threading through her hair as her eyes locked with green, "I should have known," her voice soft as she turned to her other pilot, whispering in his ear.

"Wolly, did you know she would be here?"

He shrugged his shoulders as he jumped back into his Spitfire, readying to taxi to the assigned hanger. He watched his commander climb back into her plane, never looking back at the tall woman as she ascended the rungs of her plane, "This is going to be interesting," Wolly mumbled before throttling forward.

"Hey!" Pete jogging forward toward the planes, Artie puffing behind him.

"Pete!" Artie trying to yell between gasps for air, then bending down, their orders clutched in his pudgy fingers that gripped at his knees. "Here," the major then straightening himself, cleaning his glasses as Pete had grabbed the papers, then waving his arms toward the open hangar.

"Mykes, it's the guy from the pub!" Pete wrapping his arm around Myka's shoulder, prodding her toward the two Spitfires as they parked near the service bay in the warehouse.

"I can see," Myka mumbled as she went to her major's side. She repressed her overwhelming feelings at seeing the woman; the cold rebuff from the pilot was a stark contrast to the woman in the park, Helena, by way of Essex.

"Orders?" Myka asked, watching her commander place his glasses back on.

"Pete will show Wolcott to the men's barracks, you …" adjusting his glasses as he focused on the tall woman. "You will help Captain Wells stow her things in your barracks," Artie sighed as he watched his best pilot open her mouth, no words coming out as she turned to the hanger, watching black locks whip over the worn leather jacket.

"And when was I going too briefed on this?" Myka glaring at the portly major as she backed away.

"I was going to brief you … hey, kiddo, come here," Artie waving the captain back toward him.

"Off the record?" Myka asked, crossing her arms as she stepped up, never letting the woman leave her peripheral sight.

"What do you mean? And, yes, off the record," he huffed. Still trying to catch his breath after his chase with Pete.

"Am I the only one not to know that 'the' great HG Wells was going to be assigned here? I mean what the hell Artie?" Myka then stepping closer to the major, to the man she considered a father figure.

"I know she is a wild card, Myka. I had no say when the decision was made," Artie then looking around Myka, "If it was up to me, I would never have allowed that woman anywhere near this base."

Myka cocked her head, her eyes narrowing at his sudden anger, "I know I was in London when the final orders came down. But I wish I had at least known what she looked like … I mean," Myka stepped back, her hand coming to rest on her forehead as she searched for the right words.

"I just thought I should have been allowed a brief review of all the pilots' files considering that I have to put my trust in my wingman," Myka's voice fading to whisper as she felt the woman nearing them.

"Be very wary of how much trust you …"

"Captain Wells and Sargent Wolcott, reporting for duty, sir".

Artie straighten up at the interruption, internally kicking himself for not talking with Myka sooner about the secret jacket left out of the Wells file. Only once, a few years back was he able to review her reprimands. Artie had paid a visit to his old college roommate and friend, Major James Macpherson, a few weeks after being assigned to the base.

_"Here, old friend. I suggest you look over some of the more interesting files on the potential RAF pilots being considered for assignment," James handing over a short stack of files, then leaning back as he sipped on their after-dinner Brandies._

_"And what I am looking for?"_

_"These are the wild cards I suggest you steer clear of. That one, you are holding in your hand, I would recommend..." James pointing at the file Artie had just opened, his hand clutching the glass as his finger pointed at the loose jacket on the side. "Not to be entrusted with the lives of your fellow Yanks"_

_Artie's brows rose as he thumbed through the papers, "Her actions were suspect in the cause of a fellow pilot's death?" Artie sat back as he placed his drink down, brushing his fingers over his stubble chin. "How is she even allowed back?"_

_"As you can clearly see, her official record is exemplary, an extraordinary pilot in her own right, but …"_

"_But …" Artie sighed._

Artie shook off the old memory, his hand returning their salute, then waving for Pete to come over as Myka stepped aside. Helena extended her hand to the older man, "I look forward to working with you Major Neilson, and I understand we have a mutual friend in common?" Artie held his stare at the hand in front of him.

"Yes, Major MacPherson," Artie mumbled, still ignoring her extended hand.

"Major?"

Myka had stood back, watching the exchange between the three. She gave a quick smile to the man standing beside Helena, her eyes darting quickly away from Helena's gaze.

"It's good to see you again, captain Bering," William speaking up. The tension having become unbearable for him as Helena and Artie held firm in their stand-off, her hand extended, his eyes staring at the said hand, nether backing down.

"Yes, Major?" Pete grinning as he came over to the small group.

'Artie?' Myka gritting through her teeth in a hushed tone near his ear

"Yes, well," Artie pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, turning to face Pete as he rambled off the instructions for the new pilot.

"Come on, buddy. Let's get you settled in," Pete was saying as he stopped, then looked between Helena and Myka as his stomach rumbled from all the hinky vibrations, "Myka, you coming?" his eyes dancing between the three as he hoisted William's gunny sack over his shoulder.

"No! She is not!" Artie barked, waving his hands for them to leave. Myka watched from the side of her eye as Helena stepped back, clasping her hands behind her back in similar fashion to her.

"You two," Myka snapping her head around to face the man. She had kept her stance, stealing a glance when she thought Helena was not looking.

"Captain Wells, you will follow Captain Bering over to the women's barrack. She will fill you in with standard protocols for the base. You both have a meeting at 0800 with the general." Artie then looked up from his papers, "Well? Get going!"

X

"Did you know?" Myka finally breaking her silence as she helped the woman stow her things.

"I hadn't a clue who you were when I first met you in the park," Helena's face falling as she looked into storming green eyes.

"But I had followed my heart. I meant what I said about you deserving more than just a tryst with some sot," Helena sighed. She held a few of her toiletries in her hand, searching for a place in the small Officer's barracks.

"Here," Myka said, pushing herself away with her shoulder from the wooden beam she had been leaning against. "You can stow them in the locker next to the shower stalls.

As they walked in silence toward the far side of the barracks, Myka tried to control all the questions she wanted to ask. Her fingers clenching as she tried to control the racing of her heart, the strange, unfamiliar feelings beating against her sternum.

Sure, she had her fair share of flings over her adult years, but never, ever had she experienced such a wanton pull to someone. Her feelings always boxed and filed away in the recesses of her mental storage room. Only on small occasions would her heart request time to examine those files.

But now, after the fateful meeting of this woman in the park, her heart was pounding at her minds door, demanding access.

"No!" Myka uttering under her breath as she opened the door to bathrooms, her arm splayed across the door she held open, Helena stopping in the entranceway after she brushed against Myka's body that had been pressed uncomfortably close against the door frame.

"Pardon me?" Myka's eyes wide at her unrestrained utterance that escaped, wishing the ground would open and swallow her at this very instance.

"Nothing," Helena had stopped, her arms full as she turned a bit to face Myka. Clearing her throat, Myka nodded to the lockers inside the room, an apologetic smile on her face as Helena turned and began to stow away her things.

"Mess call stats at 1800 hours, lights out for off flight crews at 2200 hours. Oh, and the officer's club closes at 000 hours. Just in case you feel like blowing some steam," Myka thinning her lips at her last statement.

"I shall keep that in mind, thank you Captain Bering," Helena walked to her bunk after nodding her thanks. She kept her head down as she unpacked the rest of her things, her hand stilling on the small picture frame, a black and white photo filling the space.

"Please, just call me Myka while we are in here, no need for rank on down time." Myka watched as Helena's fingers traced lightly over the photo, never looking up as she nodded.

"Myka?"

"Yes?" her spinning around to respond.

"That night, in pub. Wolly told me who you were after you and your co-pilot left." Helena's head was still bent down, her eyes transfixed on the photo.

"And that quip at the park?" Myka asked, her shoulders leaving her ears as she uncrossed her arms around her waist.

"Yes, the 'Ice Queen'. Sorry about that, I felt it my duty to leave you with a lasting impression," Helena then turned as she tucked the photo under her pillow, a smirk then crossing her lips.

"That you did, mission accomplished, 'Midnight Angel' " A small grin curled at the corner of Myka's lips. "I'll be in my office if you need anything," Myka then turning to head down to the far end of the barracks to her small office, if you could it that. Not much more than a glorified broom closet with half the space that sat across from the bathrooms.

The hours ticked by painfully slow, Myka glancing up at the clock on the wall every so often when she would hear a rustle from one of the other officers coming into the barracks. Straining her ear to listen to the others gush and fawn over the new arrival. Almost everyone on the base had come through the barracks, but one voice was very noticeable absent.

"Claudia, where are you?" Myka wondered aloud to herself as she finished her reports.

"Are you always in the habit of conversing with yourself, or is that some 'Yank' superstition?" anyone else would have jumped out of their skin at the sudden disturbance, but Myka being Myka, just calmly closed the file she had been reviewing.

"Something like that," Myka then pushing away from her desk. "Something I can help you with?" Myka rising up, reaching for her dress brown jacket.

"I believe it is time for dinner?" Helena was leaning just at the entrance of Myka's office, her drinking in the neat and tidy room, her eyes alighting to the bookcase the encompassed over half the small wall spaces in the room.

"So it is," Myka then looking at her watch.

"I do believe I am need of an escort, considering I have no clue to where it is located."

Myka turned away from the gaze as she buttoned her jacket, truth be told, she needed to escape from those eyes. Her defenses were down when Helena had knocked on the frame of the door earlier. Myka willed away the growing warmth that was invading her cheeks, clearing her throat; she turned, tugging at the bottom of her jacket.

"I thought you were my escort?" then following behind the woman, closing her door behind them.

"Touché, Captain Bering,"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

Myka watched out of the corner of her eye as they walked to the mess hall, her mind making mental notes at the subtle reactions as she spoke of the history and use of the buildings; Helena would lean a bit closer, slowing their pace when Myka would start in on a personal experience in one of the buildings. Only to stiffen and pick up their pace when Myka would cut short her personal side of the history lesson.

Her voice changing cadence every so often as she pointed out buildings she thought that Helena should be made aware of. Every so often, she would catch the dark eyes lighting upon her as they walked to mess, Helena would hold her gaze with Myka, her outward persona of HG Wells; 'The dashing fighter pilot' as described in many of those black and white newsreels of the war that were shown before the start of the movies. Her ego refusing to surrender until the accidental brush of their hands as they walked together, the feel of Myka's warm skin against her knuckles caused an whirling dervish of mixed emotions. Herself fighting the urge to look away when caught by those green eyes, not daring to risk what little control she had mustered up when she had come face to face with the reason behind her sleepless nights. Helena maintained a small smile to hide the inner struggle at the minute crack in the armor that had surrounded her shattered heart.

Myka held the door open, trying her best to repress her inward storm of confused emotions at Helena's soft smiles contrasting with the sudden stark contrast to the way she distanced herself after their hands had brushed as they walked to the mess.

Feeling the taller woman's tension ebbing and flowing, Helena, repressing her usual 'public' ego; a wall she used so often throughout her life as a means to protect herself from her over sensitive nature, now feeling the need to relieve the tension that she herself may have caused.

Giving a small nod, she quipped, "I see chivalry is not just reserved for the old world,"

"Meaning?" Myka asked, watching as that smirk crossed Helena's face.

"Some Americans are quite nice," threading her fingers through midnight strands, Myka picking up on this nervous habit, "contrary to grumblings about the new colonies lack of manners" a small chuckle escaping Helena as she turned her head, completely entranced by the small tint of red that, as quickly as it appeared then vanishing from the taller woman's cheeks. Myka crossed her arms, her hip holding the door open as her chin junted up in mock defiance as if insulted by the Brit's words.

"You were not singing that tune in the pub that night," Myka grumbled near her, a wisp of a crooked grin starting to form.

"Excuse me, captain," the other soldiers interrupting her train of thought as they passed by the two women in the doorway to the mess. Her senses were heightened at seeing Helena opening her mouth to retort, the way which that small, pink tongue dipped, moistening that plump bottom lip, ready with a sure quip before they were so rudely interrupted.

Myka stood suddenly erect from the calls of Helena's name from inside the mess, gathering herself back to her usual stone face as her walls shot up, "I see the Ice Queen has returned," Helena bowing slightly at the hip, nodding her head to the tall woman, her eyes trained on those pools of green.

"Shall we?"

Helena then raised her hand, waving at Wolly and the other RAF personnel seated across the room as she entered, the warmth ebbing away as Myka stayed two steps behind.

The mess hall was a long, narrow expanse of a building, wooden tables lining both sides under wooden rafters. The 'grunts' having their tables, the officers mixed within the front of the building, both sides separated by countries.

Myka had felt like she had been thrust back into time, on her first days at the airfield; harden memories revisited of her high school days, all clicks separated into their own little groups.

She was thankful that first day at base, fingers clutching the edge of the tin tray, knuckles white as she looked up, Pete enthusiastically waving for her to sit next him and her new crew of the Shadow.

The UK personal sat on the west wall, the 'Yanks' on the East wall. The 'cool' kids tables being furthest from the kitchens. Helena had observed how Myka had kept herself rigid as they trudged through the mess line. She could feel the radiating uneasiness from the tall captain as they had passed by those tables earlier. Helena wondered, as she slid her tray down the long line if Myka's tension was due to some trauma she had experienced as a child in school.

She found herself opening her mouth, yet quickly closing it as the thoughts of her daughter in school, withdrawn and a pout on that little face as she told her about a lunch room incident. Helena was about to share this little memory with Myka, in hopes of her opening up a bit, but before she could form a word, flashes of flames in that black and white News reel erased that smiling face.

Helena quickly recovered from the painful memories at the sudden smack, her tin tray shifting at the sudden sight and sound of dinner on her tray.

"Helena, you okay?"

Myka nugged softly against her shoulder, her head tilted down and off to the right as she watched the glassy, dull brown eyes she had only seen once, that day in the park as Helena talked of the burnt out rubble that was once a thriving family home, then return to warm Mahogany.

"Will you escort me back to our humble lodgings after sup?" Helena asking after a small clear of her throat, hoping her little diversion tactic would help ease some of the tension knotted up in Myka's shoulders.

The only time she had seen the woman completely at ease was that first day she spotted those soft curls that curtained the book she was reading in the park.

A quite calm had enveloped Helena from that raging storm that surrounded her heart. A small calm forming in the eye of the storm as she neared the beauty, a sense of peace surrounding Myka, pulling at Helena, just as a battered storm refuge drawn to shelter.

The brief reprieve that quelled her heart from reminders, the painful memories represented by those burnt out buildings in the distance from the park. Helena repressed the small quiver threatening her lower lip at the loss of those burnt out shells had represented as she had neared Myka seated on that park bench.

Myka tried to repress her smile, keeping up a cold 'Ice Queen' facade for her crew and the others, ever aware of the eyes trained on them as they made their way through the long line down the food line. Helena every so often turning her chin up, her nose scrunching at the strange slop slapped on her tin tray.

"I will give you my pudding," Helena grinning as Myka turned to face her.

"No need for bribes, you are my wingman," Myka mumbled, nugging Helena toward the table that held her crew. "Go be with your friends,"

"Are you up to a morning run?" Helena asked, her body turning to her fellow Brits but her eyes locked on the tall American as both started to turn toward their prospected tables.

"0500, but I usually run alone," Myka said, then rolling her eyes as Pete yelled her way for them to join them.

"Of course you do, would not expect anything less from the Ice Queen, "Helena smiling as she backed away, tray in hand.

"So, you and your 'wing woman' settling in?" Pete wagging his eyebrows as Myka sat across from him.

"None of your business, Lattimer," Myka grumbled as she looked down at her tray, watching the strange, brown mystery meat limp down around her fork. "Where is Claudia?" Myka asking as she yanked her fork, willing the brown goo off her fork.

"Something about working into the night and needing to get that camera thingy ready so she doesn't have to and I quote 'feel the wrath of General Frederic' or something else like that. Oh, hey, you going to eat that?" Pete then stabbing at the brown sort of mystery meat on her tray as he talked.

"It's all yours," Myka saying as she slid her tray to her co-pilot and friend, grabbing the roll as she stood up. "I have, I mean, we, Captain Wells and I," Myka nodding her head in the general direction of Helena's table, "have a briefing at 0800. Will fill you in when I know more."

Helena scurried to finish her meal as she watched the tall captain stop at the end of the mess line, nodding to one of the cooks as she placed a small tin can into her jacket pocket.

"Excuse me, Wolly, seems I need to head out, post haste," Helena nodding to her mate as she watched Myka heading for the double doors of the mess hall, giving a small frown at the amount of the meal Myka had not consumed.

X

"Well, that was an enlightening conversation, don't you think, Captain Bering?"

Claudia bumping her head at the voice that wafted through the Shadow, "What the frack!" she hissed as she rubbed her head. Both Myka and Amanda looking at each other, trying to repress their grins, them kneeling from the top of the deck that surrounded the lower housing of the lens array and camera that Claudia was down in.

"Over here, Captain Wells," Myka shouted over her shoulder. "Come aft,"

"What!? She is coming in here?" Claudia squeaked as she popped her head over the metal deck housing, grabbing the wrench Amanda was holding with one hand, rubbing the now forming knot on the top of her head. "Myka?" she staged whispered, "You didn't say anything about the 'Angel' coming in here?" Claudia gritting through her teeth, glaring at Amanda as she held a steel grip on the wrench Claudia was trying to wrest from her hand.

"What conversation?" Amanda asking in the worst British accent Myka had ever been privy to.

"Never you mind, just help Claud, we have to be operational and air borne at 1700 hundred hours for testing," Myka wiping her hands on her knees as she got up from kneeling on the metal deck as she spoke. "I want the Shadow ready by six, got it?"

"Yes ma'am," both mumbling as their voices was drowned out by the clacking of boot heels on the metal belly of the Shadow.

"Myka?" the voice echoing through the eerily quiet plane.

"Over here, come aft, Helena," Myka's back was turned, her heading toward the cockpit.

"Helena?" she heard her two crew members whispering behind her. She snapped her head around, the stone cold glare piercing through the two women. Smoothing down her leather jacket, Myka turned as Helena came up beside her.

"I believe I have not yet had the pleasure," Helena smiling as she held out her hand, ignoring Myka's glare as the captain tried to direct the pilot away from her crew.

"Just call me Amanda, head engineer of the Shadow and this little spitfire is …" Amanda giving a half smile as she reached down behind her, yanking Claudia up by the scruff of her overalls collar from the bottom of the turret.

"Is your biggest fan," Amanda grunting as she struggled to pull the redhead up over the metal decking.

"Really?" Helena smirking as she crossed her arms, trying her best to repress her chuckle as the girl popped up, her arms resting on the rim of the turret as the clank of the wrench in her hand hit the deck, the reverberation echoing through the empty plane.

"I have had a few rounds with such things," Helena nodding toward the half assembled camera that sat on the edge of the deck. "Before all of this hullabaloo, I taught Engineering at Oxford,"

"You did?" all three women cocking their heads in question at the woman standing near the deck, Myka leaning against the .50 gun near the aft.

"Perhaps later, I can pop my head down for a looky loo?" Helena looking at the two women, purposely ignoring the glare from those green eyes.

"Perhaps," Myka grumbled as she tugged at the leather clad elbow of the woman next to her.

"General Frederic was very specific with her orders,"

"What orders?" Claudia popped off; her eyes shooting back to the mess of wires as Myka glared at her. "Or not" Claudia whispered as she grabbed the snips, ducking down under the rim.

X

Myka had run in silence, very well aware of the dark haired shadow following her as she jogged along the edge of the base. Not a word was spoken, both women lost in their own thoughts as they jogged back to the barracks, revelry echoing behind them.

Myka had held back, fumbling with her uniform, allowing time for Helena to shower alone. She banged her head against the wall of her closed office, willing away the thoughts of the woman and her now undressed form. Every small thump of her exercise clothes that dropped to the floor of the shower stall reverberated in her ear.

The slightly loud sound of her shoes dropping, a small sigh as she listen to the sweat soaked shirt lift over a firm back, sliding over defined arms as Helena brought the sweat soaked shirt over her head. Myka turned into the hard wooden wall, her fingers tracing up the rough wood as she tried desperately to block out the sound of soft wool dragging over taut thighs. She breathed out a sigh of relieve as the harsh sound of hot water drummed at the cool tiles as Helena turned on the water.

"All scrubbed," Helena said over her shoulder, purposely waiting on Myka to open her office door. "I believe mess and then our meeting with the general?" Helena smiling as those green eyes went wide. She let her robe hang loose, never tying the sash firm as she exited the shower stall.

"Gods be damned," Helena whispered to herself, watching her reflexing in the mirror as she combed the wet, dark locks. A smile playing at her face, knowing Myka was hiding behind her office door. The faint shadow then crossing over delicate features, her hand dropping at the ends of her sash. Helena warred with the feelings churning inside her, her heart screaming to pursue this beautiful creature. But at the same time, her senses niggling to take it slow.

"She is a treasure to be unearthed, to give loving thought. Not some notch on your belt, Wells,"

That was as assumed, the general giving orders, a special mission that was the ut-most. But a small word had not escaped them both, 'trust'.

The general almost all but ordering them both joined at the hip. Helena's inner demons raging at the closeness that was demanded. The hairs on the back of her neck standing on end at the cold that settled in the room from the tall American bristling at the thought to let someone, her, so intimately close.

"You two must know what the other is thinking, the reaction and foresight to work as 'one' in order for these reconnaissance missions to succeed. The Shadow and its camera array must make it back to base," the loud thump of the general's fist smacking her desk caused both women to flinch.

Helena jumped a bit as Myka touched her elbow, guiding them aft to her cockpit. "Here, take Pete's seat, Myka commanded as she started to lean over, strapping Helena into the co-pilots seat. Helena sat in silence, willing herself to concentrate, to erase the faint hint of the Americans shampoo and scented soap that clung to her skin as Myka rattled off the control panel, her long, wonderful long index finger pointing to knobs and controls.

'Stop it,' Helena whispered under her breath as she watched Myka point to different switches on the control board.

"Bed,"

"I beg your pardon?" Helena was then frantically fumbling with the safety latches on the harness.

"General Frederic said you were to ride shotgun with Shadow, us hanging back as tail-end Charlie tonight?"

"Oh, that," Helena releasing a shaky breath as Myka released her from the constraints.

"Yeah, that," Myka uttered as she opened the cockpit door, her eyes focused on anything but brown.

"And this is a bad thing?" Helena responding, trying her best to shake away the loss of control from the collar, wishing it was the joy-stick of her own plane.

"I've never been tail-end Charlie. I have always led" Myka's voice fading away as they went stern down the belly of the Shadow.

"But?" Helena quirking a raised eyebrow at the captain as she nodded, opening the aft door to the stairs leading down to the tarmac.

"1800 hours for pre-flight," Myka saying over her shoulder as she bee-lined for the abandoned warehouse at the end of the field.

"Righty-ho," Helena whispered to the back of the retreating form.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

"Abort lead one," Myka relied over the com as the group watched the number two and three engines sputter out, the lead plane drifting down and out of formation.

"Number two?" Myka was just asking when the pitch dark of the late evening sky was illuminated by harsh gold and red flames.

"Damn it," Pete then clasping over his mike as he turned his head toward the almost silent curse. "We lost the Pledge, they are flaming out,"

Myka whispered as she adjusted the flaps, pushing the collar forward as she glided the Shadow over the rest of the formation. "We have to take lead,"

"Claudia? We at full payload?" Pete watched Myka's eyes narrow, her fingers gripping tighter as she brought the plane over the rest of the squadron.

"Orders?" Pete asked as he adjusted the yaw and pitch.

"We are taking lead," Myka said over the com to all flights.

"We are?" Claudia gulped as all heard her adjusting and smacking at the camera array, clicking in the lats and longs as the squad approached the target.

"Flack is thick cap as are these damn mosquitos," Amanda gritted as all gunners emptied their clips.

"Angel, need a clear road, we are engaging," Myka radioed to her wingman.

"Aces!" was all that was heard as Myka and Pete watched the two Spitfires buzz over their cockpit. Myka tapped her com, repressing the smile as she spied the two planes taking down the Messiers around the rest of the convoy, clearing a path for the Shadow to cut through the flack and set up point in front.

"How long?" Myka gritted in a calm voice, both Pete and her straining as they banked the flying fortresses to the front of the pack.

"29 and counting …" the bombardier said.

"You have 10 before countdown, all planes follow our lead," Pete tried his best to repress his smile. This was Myka in all her glory, her shining moment. He knew a long time alone in the hanger would follow after the loss of the number one and two planes, but now, all of them needed the 'Ice Queen' at her best. He held the collar firm as Myka relied instructions to the other planes and calming her voice to help Claudia concentrate on the countdown he knew the young girl was giving at the fly of her cuff.

"Karats breaking off, all yours Shadow," that voice, the clean, sure English accent steeling Myka's shoulders, Pete would have sworn later.

"Claudia, countdown?" Myka's steady voice ringing over the com.

"10, 9, 8,"

"Come on Wolly, time to let the big guns shine," Helena pulling back, banking over the Shadow as they turned.

"Cover the tail, Captain Wells," Myka said as she watched the planes speed past them.

"Aye aye," Helena smirked.

"4, 3, 2, 1…"

"Messier's at two o'clock!" just as Wolly's voice came rushing over the com; Myka commanded the 'bombs away'.

The Shadow lurched forward after the payload was released; the number three engine on their left blew.

"What the frack!" was cracking over the coms as the planes released their bombs.

"In coming, in coming at three o'clock!" Josh was shouting as all gunners manned their .50 guns.

"Their buzzing too close!" Steve shouted over the thunderous noise of his gun in the bottom turret.

"Claudia, are we on target?" Myka said over the com, reaching for the flaps as she pushed the collar forward and banked to the right.

"Direct hit Captain!"

"Bombers, we are bugging out," Myka said. "Check in!" her voice rising just an octave that no one had ever heard as she grabbed at her arm, as small piece of glass breaking thru the left corner of the cockpit. A piece of flack shattering on the small pane of glass on her side of the cockpit.

"Damn it!" Myka cursed as she ducked her head, grabbing at Pete as a small chunk of steel frame cracked, rushing just past him. Her body was thrown back, grabbing at her leather helmet as it shifted.

"We have Charlie;s at 1200, Angel," Myka said as she pushed Pete back into his seat, wiping at the sweat dripping in her right eye.

"Just a sec Shadow, have to rebuff a few unwanted callers," Myka leaned over, watching as the Spitfire banked and rolled just over the wing of the plane, white hot dots lighting up the dark sky in a mesmerizing line of fire, the faint hint of yellow falling just under the blazing number three engine of the Shadow.

Myka listened to the chatter of the other bombers as their payloads were confirmed, sighing a bit as she listened to them chatter and count off as they headed back to friendly skies.

"You okay?" she asked Pete as he regained control of the collar.

"Just peachy, but Mykes, your head?" Pete was sputtering as Myka released herself from the chair.

"Just fly us while I check on things?"

"Yeah, no prob, but Myka, your head?"

"Shut up, Pete. I'm fine. All wingmen check in," Myka said as she rushed back to the belly of the plane, adjusting her headset after wiping the sweat from her forehead.

"Report!" She barked at Amanda as she grabbed her arm, racing for the bottom turret nearby.

"Cap, your head!" Amanda rushed out, trying to turn to stop her captain.

"Myka! A little help?" Claudia was gritting as they saw the young red-head, ass end up as the rest of her was down in the turret. The freezing blast of air rushing through the belly of the plane.

"Steve!" they both shouted as they dove down on the plate, grabbing at the leather jacket while pushing the young red-head away.

"Shadow, seems you have a crew member trying to escape from a blown hole in the bottom turret. Wolly, cover the belly while I clear the head," Helena was instructing as she blew away the last of the enemy planes chasing the squadron of bombers.

The bottom glass had been shot out, Steve just barely hanging on from his straps, Claudia grimacing as she held a death grip on the gunner whose legs dangled out in the cold, dark night.

"Grab the plate," Amanda shouted as the two women grabbed at the man, Claudia shaking her thoughts clear as she reached over for the hatch. Throwing the metal over the gaping hole after Amanda and Myka pulled Steve out of the hole.

"Jesus!" Steve was huffing as he lay on top of the two women who had hauled him up. "I owe you a huge steak diner," his voice shaking as he rolled off the two women.

"Thanks you big lug, but am not really your type," Claudia smirked as she reached out a hand, helping to steady Steve to his feet.

"Enough you two!" Myka shouted over the roar of cold air racing around them. She dusted off her knees as she helped Amanda to her feet. Her voice then trailing off as she grabbed at her leather helmet, steadying herself against the side gun.

"Myka, your head?" Amanda said as she grabbed Myka, steadying her against an ammo crate on the floor.

"All clear Shadow," the soft English voice was barely audible over the roaring air from the gaping hole. "Myka, are you alright?"

"All planes head home," Myka barely able to say over the com as she pressed her finger against it. Rolling on her back as her lungs fought for warm air after they had closed the gaping hole in the turret.

"Captain Bering?"

"Yeah, go,"

Myka was still trying to catch her breath, her head turning; the cold steel that hit her cheek caused a sobering clearness as her eyes watched Claudia and Amanda hugging Steve close to them on the bare steel of the belly of the plane.

"Shadow? … Myka?" the clear, crisp voice shaking Myka, pushing herself against the plane, her hand coming to rest on the now throbbing right side of her head. Her hand feeling along the cold metal as she made her way to the cockpit.

"All clear, Angel. Time to head home,"

XXX

"What?" Myka asked, not looking at her co-pilot as she adjusted the earphones on her head.

"Nothing!" Pete said as he guided the plane toward the runway. "It's just, maybe a quick visit to Doc Caulder might help?"

Myka was on auto-pilot landing the plane, her only thought was on the can of tuna that pressed against her rib-cage inside the pocket of her leather jacket. Knowing she needed the release of losing the crew of the those two planes, of her taking lead and making sure her charges had made their landing.

Thoughts of Helena leaving her plane to fight with the others grated, but not as much as it should have. If not for Helena leaving her side, they may have lost more planes.

Myka's hand shook as she tried to open the can of Tuna she had in her jacket, racing for the safety of the old warehouse. Not paying attention to the shouts of Pete as she bee-lined to the old warehouse, leaving her crew and the other pilots gawking at her back

This was not her, her plane was damaged, as was her crew, but she needed the refuge of silence and Sammie.

She needed to grieve the loss.

"Damn it!" she cursed as she wiped harshly at the trickle of 'sweat' down her forehead as her eyebrows knotted, concentrating at opening the can of fish. Myka had not heard the clop of leather boots against the tarmac following behind her, shuffling feet trying to stop the woman as her friend tried to protect her.

"Get her to the Doc," Pete had said, grabbing Helena's arm as she rushed to follow the tall American down to the end of the field.

"We should not have engaged," was all the English woman said as she spun around, whipping her arm away from the grip of Myka's co-pilot. "I was her wingman and should have not left her side!" Helena growled.

"And you didn't, right?" Pete's pleading eyes stilled Helena's anger.

"Hey? A little sharing?" Wolly asked, watching the heated exchange as he came jogging up to the two of them, his head nodding to the empty warehouse Myka had gone rushing into.

"Is she okay?"

"None of your concern," both shouting as they stopped the man from going any further.

"Helena? You saw her head, the gash and blood?"

Helena cleared her throat, tugging at the hem of her leather jacket, "Wolly, be a love and go make sure our planes are fueled, Yes?" Helena nudging her friend with her shoulder to go back down the field.

Myka blocked out the noise she heard from the voices just outside the hanger, her hand frozen on the can of tuna she had tried to open, Sammie crossing and rubbing between her legs.

"Don't, I mean, please take her to the doc" Pete said as they neared Myka, taking the can from her hand as Helena lead Myka away from the hanger.

XXX

"Love, you should have that tended to," Helena was whispering in a gentle tone as she stopped, turning Myka to look at her just outside the infirmary. Thankful that Myka did not notice her use of the term of endearment she let slip.

"I can't do this anymore," Myka whispered, her fingers covered in crimson as she pulled them in front of her face.

"Yes you can, my darling," Helena huffing as she bore the brunt of Myka's weight, the woman collapsing in her arms as she busted through the double doors of the IC, nurses rushing to help as they laid the captain down on the nearest infirmary cot.

"Will she?" her words just a hush directed to the doctor as she threaded her fingers through soft curls, her finger tracing over the angry, jagged open wound on Myka's forehead. Helena jerked her hand back as the doctor examined Myka, noticing the pilot flinching as she wrapped her arms around herself.

"Captain Bering will be fine, however? … Captain Wells?" the doctor asked as she led the other woman away from the flurry of nurses that surrounded Myka's cot. "My I?" the doctor asked as she gently lead the woman to the cot next to Myka," "Your jacket?" the doc nodded as her fingers traced over the tear in the leather jacket.

"It is a flesh wound," Helena shrugged as she tried to stand up.

"Not on my watch Captain Wells, please remove your jacket." the sternness of the voice caused Helena to huff as she sat back down on the cot, her eyes never leaving Myka as she watched the flurry around the woman.

The minutes seemed to tick by slower than the sluggishness of molasses on a cold winter day. Helena flinched once in a while at the sutures that were threaded in her upper arm as she watched the nurse dress Myka's head wound, flinching as a small piece of shrapnel was removed from Myka's helmet that had been tossed aside.

Myka grimaced and cursed, batting away the hands that tried to heal her, 'Ever the 'Ice Queen' the one nurse smirked under her breath.

"Your job is to heal, yes?" Helena said, nodding her thanks as Dr. Caulder finished the last of the stitches.

"Yeah?" the thick Brooklyn accent booming over her shoulder as the nurse turned, wrapping up the last of the catgut in a cloth.

"Then maybe a course or three on bedside manners should be studied?" the snark not escaping the room as Helena sat up, adjusting her leather flight jacket over her shoulder.

"You're her, aren't you?" the nurse asked as she handed the file back to Dr. Caulder, ripping her gloves off as she started to leave the room.

"And by 'whom' are you referring?" Helena asked as she adjusted her jacket around her shoulders, settling gently on the side of Myka's cot, her eyes solely trained on clear green now starting to focus on brown.

"The _great_ HG Wells, not caring what the cost for all you're …"

"That's enough, nurse Chapel," Doctor Caulder saying as she tried to push the nurse out of the room, sighing as she turned to the two women left in the room. "Five minutes,"

"Five by five?" Myka whispered, her hand starting to rise up to clear a stray black lock away from those mahogany eyes.

"Yes, love. All is right by the world,"

"And Sammie is being fed?" Myka asked, trying to sit up as she cleared her throat.

"Yes, Lieutenant Lattimer is seeing to your feline as we speak," Helena smiled, her finger now entangled by a stray curl near Myka's cheek.

"Well," Dr. Caulder clearing her throat as she bowed her head, "Seems Captain Bering is in need of an escort back to the barracks. Captain Wells? A moment?" Helena smiled down at Myka, gripping their entwined fingers to her lips.

"Just a moment, hmm?" she smiled into their hands, nodding in the direction of the doctor as she got up.

"Get a room," the nurse snarked as she dropped the bloodied surgery equipment on the tray.

"Wait for me in my office, nurse Chapel?" Dr. Caulder snarled at the retreating form of the nurse, then turning to face Helena.

"Captain Bering may have suffered a concussion, make sure she rest and has plenty of liquids, and do not let her sleep for the next few hours, understood Captain Wells?" the doctor was saying over her shoulder as she dragged her nurse out of the infirmary. "General Frederic would have my hide if anything happened to the two of you,"

"By any means?" Helena winked at Myka as she spoke.

"You know what a … I mean Wells has a reputation as a ... Doctor, you can't let Captain Bering be alone with …"

"With what? Nurse Chapel?" Helena asked, her face smiling down at Myka as she helped the woman up.

"You know what I mean!" the nurse said as Dr. Caulder dragged her out of the room.

"Do you wish for Captain Bering's hand?" Helena asked as she helped Myka get dressed, Myka, still suffering from the effects of the blow to her head was completely oblivious to the banter around her.

...

"Helena, I'm fine," Myka huffed, untangling herself from Helena after she lead them back to the small officer's barracks. The few others who resided there had made their way out, tending to their duties as Helena settled them down.

"I don't need a babysitter," Myka grumbled as she tried to remove her flight coveralls, choking down a sharp breath of pain at the pounding against her skull. Helena looked over her shoulder as she was gathering what she remembered of Myka's sleeping attire from her foot locker.

"I should hope not," Helena saying as she turned the clothes in one hand, trying her best to hide the concerned clinch of her heart. "I was instructed by your good doctor to watch over you,"

She sat at the corner of Myka's bunk, the pills in one hand as she held the glass of water toward the stubborn woman, "Doctor's orders," Helena said as she watched Myka down the pills with a heavy chug of water following.

"Happy?" Myka said in a cold tone as she held up her empty palm, Helena ignoring the subsiding glare as the pain meds started to take hold.

"Just be a good patient?" Helena hummed. A small breath of relief escaping as she watched the younger woman settle back into her bunk, relenting to the pull of the opiates

"Here, some breakfast hash and SOS," Claudia blurted out as she set the meals down next to Myka's bedside. "And, fresh squeezed OJ!" Claudia setting the Carafate down proudly as she backed away. "Does Myka, I mean you two Captains need anything else?" her eyes darting between the two women after Helena had jumped to her feet, standing just off from Myka's side as the bombardier had barged in.

"And how did you procure fresh citrus during war?" Helena asked, deflecting away from her nervousness. Helena then frowned as she tried to set a pillow behind Myka's head, the woman swatting her hand away as she looked around Helena's side. Helena bit her bottom lip, eyes trained on Myka as she grabbed her sutured arm, causing a slight grimmest as she backed away.

"You okay?" Myka whispered as she first stretched her hand out to Helena's retreating form, then yanking her hand away as if a small child who just scolded their hand over an open flame. Helena looked sideways at the young red head, sighing in relief as the young girl was oblivious, and Myka to a certain degree, of what surely was Helena's heart, laid bare on a bloodied sleeve.

Feeling emboldened by the lack of attention to her faux pas, Helena winked at Myka as she drew up the scratchy, Army standard- issue blanket over her, tucking the hem just under her chin.

"You know" Claudia started to say, Helena then grateful for the relief from the silence that had washed over the room, " … someone owed me a favor and I cashed in some of my chips and it's Myka and you and I am rambling and have to go!" Claudia stuttered, turning on her heels as she bee-lined out the double swinging doors.

"You know she has a big hero worship thing for you," Myka said as she reached for the glass of juice.

"So I gather," Helena chuckled, turned with her arms crossed around her waist as she sat down next to Myka. "Why, for the life of me, I have not the first clue," Helena smiled as she lifted the cover to the food tray.

"Maybe something to do with those twenty-three kills," Myka said, and then frowning as Helena pulled the glass of juice out of her hand.

"Twenty-six as of this morning," Helena replied as she set the glass down, her brow furrowing as she cut up the strange cream sauce on toast, bits of pink beef peppering the strange concoction.

"Shit on a Shingle," Myka whispered as she tentatively held Helena wrist that held the fork near her mouth.

"Meat before juice," Helena smiled as she held her other hand under the fork full of … whatever this was called.

"I can feed myself," Myka mumbled, guiding the fork full of cream sauce, bread and meat to her.

"I am more than sure you are capable, but I am under strict orders from the doctor, please?" Helena asked.

Myka finished half the plate, watching over the rim of the orange juice as Helena changed out of her flight suit, both flinching as Helena struggled to slide her flight suit down her stitched up arm. Helena turned at the slight hiss Myka made at the sight of her wound. "Scars make for slight aphrodisiacs," Helena smirked halfheartedly as she gathered up her night wear.

"You need any help …" Myka was asking as she tried to get up out of her bed.

"Do not move a muscle!" Helena retorted as she spun around, "Just give me a few minutes to clean up and I shall help with settling you in for the morn."

Myka opened her mouth to protest, Helena's stiff finger pointing at her made her shrink back into her bed. "I shall return to you still in your bed. I will dress your head and then settle us in for rest, understood?" Helena's voice stern.

"Yes, ma'am," Myka mock saluted with a crooked grin spreading across her lips.

"Have you always been such a 'Mother'?" Myka shouted to the retreating back of the woman as she was bathed in ignorant bliss from the grip of the pain meds now coursing through her veins.

"Not since Christina," Helena whispered as she closed the door to the showers behind her.

Myka did not bear witness to the harsh sucking of air, of knuckles that turned white as Helena gripped the side of the shower stall. The soft sobs drowned out by the harsh beating of water against the tile wall.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

"Why are we pulling back?" Pete asking as Myka banked the plane away from the squadron after they had passed the assigned point. General Frederic having given the secret coded numbers to Myka during the morning meeting the day after Doc Calder's RTD.

"_Am I going to get a RTD any time soon?" Myka's voice conveying her silent frustrations at being grounded and having to endure all the poking and prodding for half the morning. Her head still pounding from the light that shined in her eyes as she blew out a loud sound of relief, her pursed lips freezing in mid sigh as Dr. Caulder shot her a disapproving glare over her shoulder while placing the pen light back down on the instrument tray._

"_Any discomfort or dizziness?" the doctor asking as she kept her eyes trained on the file in her hands._

"_None," Myka replied as she jumped off the table._

"_And sleep and meals going down?" the doctor sighing as she dropped the file on the table, leaning against it as she crossed her arms, eyeing the pilot as she watched the captain shrug on her flight jacket, making mental note of the slight twist of her lips as the leather collar brushed against the angry red scar on her forehead._

"_Helena … Wells, Captain Wells was the perfect nursemaid, fed me that slop from mess and made sure I was tucked in …" Myka's voice fading at the last of her spoken words, turning away from the growing smirk on the doctor's lips._

"_Better choice than nurse Chapel, I assume?" the doctor chuckling lightly as she helped Myka with her jacket._

"_It was just one date! Why is everyone so consumed with my social outings?" Myka huffed, then leaning against the cold, sterile table, holding out the forms toward the doctor. "Just sign my release to duty, please, Vanessa?"_

"_A meeting with Irene?" the doctor saying as she signed the forms._

"_As soon as you feel me fit for duty," Myka tugging at the brass zipper of her leather flight jacket, _

"_Who is Irene?"_

"_The general, Irene Frederic and Helena is to you...?" the doctor's smirk growing wider as she handed the signed release forms back to Myka._

"_Just a friend," Myka sighed as she fiddled at the leather collar of her flight jacket._

"_So how is my favorite girl?" the haunting voice entering the small room just a hair's breadth before the beauty of said owner._

"_Your girl?" Myka retorting back, giving the most god-awful faux smile the doctor had ever been witness too as Myka snatched up the paperwork, trying her best to avoid the orbital pull of the Angel as she tried to press out of the room._

"_We must make post haste. Irene does detest tardiness," Helena saying as she hooked her arm between Myka's. A soft sigh escaping pink lips as the worn leather brushed against the small expanse of exposed skin on her wrist from her own jacket riding up her arm..._

"_Leather suits you," Helena mumbled as she ducked her head quickly against Myka's leather clad shoulder, guiding them toward the general's office._

_Myka felt her boldness rising as she held the knob of the general's door down, stilling both of them, "No matter what is said," Myka then clearing her throat as she watched Helena nod for her to continue._

"_Dinner? I mean, something I can throw together and a blanket near the lake and if Claudia can get a bottle of … anything?"_

_Myka's eyes grew as wide as the channel as Helena leaned in, brushing her lips against the tall American's, chaste, but with all the heated passion as a solar flare erupting._

"_I also wish for our first… embrace, to be an epic tale," Helena ducking her head with pink-hued cheeks, lips gently pressing against tender, silken neck tendering's that had become one with lovingly secure shoulders._

_xxx_

"_Just epic?" Myka's words brushing with just a hint of ego against tender, trembling lips after their meeting with the general had ended. _

_Myka had scrambled to gather the meats and cheeses at the RX, thanking Claudia with a quick hug, then turning to pack up the basket as she rushed around the small officer's barricks. Myka's smile grew with each step towards the woman standing near the shore of the small lake, her breath hitching at sight of black locks falling over leather clad shoulders as Helena turned around to the sounds of crunching grass under Myka's leather boots._

_The setting sun was casting subtle hues of silver, blue and gold. The prism of colors dancing over small the ripples of faint green as the waves lapped against the worn rocks of the lake down and away from the shore._

"_Are you sure?" the faint quiver of doubt ebbed to wisps of hope trembling over bee-stung lips, doubts being erased as quickly as a damp rag over the white chalk on a green board in some quaint school room. Myka's arm embracing, possessive around the slight hilt of shoulders as she leaned their joined forms down on the soft quilt. The small talk was a fleeting thought after their meal, both women having inched closer to one another through out the make-shift meal._

"_Stop talking, Helena," Myka's lips brushing against soft, expectant ones. Both drawing in each other's breath, feeling as if without the other, every atom in the universe would screech to a mind-shattering halt, the world melting in agony if those lips did not touch._

"_Even with the taint of my soul?" Helena's words breathless, brushing against Myka's._

"_A mother should never endure the agony of burying their child," Myka's words falling almost as fast as her tears. Low, soft moans escaped as fingertips dug into the soft, fine hairs at the nape of her neck. A small hiss escaping as long legs viced around Myka's hips._

"_Chase your ghosts, beside my soul,"_

**XXX**

"Tail-end Charlie pulling back," Myka said over the com. "All planes carry on with orders," Myka never looking at Pete as she guided the plane away, pulling out her pocket compass as she scribbled on a small pad of paper.

"Claudia, starting our run," Myka saying over the in-plane com she had switched to.

"Roger that Captain, beginning lens array forty-five in twenty clicks,"

"Mykes, what the hell?" Pete whispered as he covered his com mike. His eyes wide, filled with confusion as he let go of the collar, releasing total control to his captain.

"General Frederic's orders," was all Myka said as she adjust their speed. "Look Pete," Myka sighed as she turned off her com," 'A need to know' and we are following her orders, recon over this assigned area and then regroup with the squad,"

"Angel … Quarterman, we are starting Operation Eagle. _Escort Atlas 66_," Pete side-eyeing his friend and captain as the Shadow banked right, leaving the squad, a faint glow of the V formation of low cabin lights fading from sight.

"Roger that Shadow," the accent crisp, filling the com as Pete sat back, watching as Myka guided the flying fortress to their secret assignment.

"So, care to share?" Pete saying as he raised his arms, linking his fingers together as he rested them on top of his head.

"Pictures, recon, ops," Myka never looking at him as she adjusted their heading, "Keep eyes on the sky for enemy planes," Myka saying, her eyes trained on the scratch pad in her lap, never looking at her co-pilot.

"Are we really just taking pics?"

"Stop whining Nancy Boy," Pete smiling as he caught the faint hint of a smirk playing at Myka's lips after her remark.

"Angel to Shadow, all's quiet,"

"Roger that Angel, three clicks till cut-off," Myka's lopsided grin growing at the fading accent not escaping Pete's attention.

"Soooo, have you done the dirty yet?" Pete grinning ear to ear as he pushed Myka's shoulder after untangling his fingers over his head.

"I believe your co-pilot is regressing to a Neanderthal class," Helena's voice cutting thru the silence as they neared their target.

"Two clicks till target and yeah, what are up with you two?" Claudia's voice piping over the com.

"Shut it!" Myka, Helena and Amanda's voices all cutting in at the same time.

"I call dibs on maid of honor!" Steve grinning ear to ear.

"Okay, enough of the chatter, turn to radio silence" Pete's voice turning stern as he watched Myka clench her jaw, the faint pulsing of taunt muscles clenched under her cheek as he watched her fingers gripping mercilessly around the collar, swearing it was starting to bend under the strained grip of building anger.

"_I'm sorry Helena. I didn't mean anything by that mother thing," Myka had whispered. Her mind a slight slurry mess, but the one coherent brain cell left untouched by the meds recognized the red-rimmed eyes after Helena had exited the shower. She remembered the picture hidden under Helena's pillow that day she had settled in._

"_General Frederic stressed the need to trust," Helena sighed as she stopped, looking at the held, raised corner of the blanket. The gentle plea of understanding green eyes drawing her under the security, nestling against the warmth._

"_She was killed during the blitz screen … my Christina." Myka had thought she was going to get up, and then giving a shuddering sigh as Helena snuggled closer to her instead. Her hand wrapping around her shoulder as Helena sunk further into her, pressing her face into the nuck of her neck._

"_I was teaching at Uni that morning of the raid in the neighborhood. My Christina was staying at my cousins for the summer while I was 'impressed' upon by the elders of the Uni to teach a summer class." Helena wiped roughly with the palm of her hand against her cheek as she sighed._

"_My brother Charles had rushed to the classroom, waving that thin paper of a wire gram, sobbing as he read it aloud to me. The next day I marched down to the training base and as they say, 'Bob's your Uncle', her death my reason for signing up. My reason for …" Helena sighed as she further buried her face into Myka's neck," ...for chasing her ghost, the reason for all my kills,"_

"_Should I worry for the safety of my crew?" Helena then raising her head, her finger tracing over the small frown lines crossing Myka's brow._

"_Your safety is my only concern," _

"_And what of the time in the park?" Myka dipping her head as her blush grew._

"_My darling, the meds are having their way with you," Helena struggling to release herself from Myka's firm grip._

"_Don't," Myka rasping in Helena's ear as she drew her body flush against hers, sighing as their forms fitted neatly in a loving package. "Were you trying to protect me?"_

"_Something like that," Helena sighed, her fingers playing at the tie string on Myka's pajama bottom. "My reputation is somewhat seedy, by my own doing and wished not to taint yours after finding out your true identity," Helena whispering as Myka stilled their fingers together against the drawstring now tangled around Helena's forefinger._

"_Tell me that you have not dreamt of us?" Myka's voice laced with concern and a sliver of hope._

"_Truth?"_

"_I would have nothing less," Myka's words a faint husk tickling at Helena's ear._

"_Another notch on your lipstick case?" Myka's fingers digging a bit firmer into the back of soft skin under Helena's throw top. Her thumb gently caressing at the baby-fine hairs on the small of Helena's back side._

_xxx_

"Counting down from twenty," Claudia's voice shaking Myka from the past thoughts.

"Shadow, formation V," Helena's voice reinforcing their needed mission.

"Starting Cartography, give me three clicks," Claudia saying as all heard the clicking and snapping of the shutter.

"Count down for final show?" Myka gripping the collar firm as Pete lounged back.

"Seven clicks then cross by five," Claudia responded.

"In layman's terms?" Helena's voice crackling over the com.

"Just give me twenty secs of a pass and we are all good,"

"Sure, piece of pie, no worries," Wolly's voice sparking over the com.

"Piece of cake, Wolly, get it right. We are dealing in 'Yank' terms" Helena was saying as she buzzed over the right flank of the Shadow.

"In coming!" Wolly's voice high pitched as the crew shifted, all eyes straining through the gun sights.

"Where?" Helena's voice laced with worry.

"Three o'clock high Angel! In coming!"

"Claudia, tell me we are clear?" Myka's voice flooding the com.

"Three seconds more!"

"We had three seconds, twenty secs ago!" Pete's voice barking over the airwaves.

"Abort … Abort! Angel!" Myka's voice laced with worry as she banked the Shadow.

"Please … please," she whispered, her hand over the com as they flanked over the dark German forests below. Flashes of flaming planes plunging down to their deaths. The com clattered with shouts between Helena and her wingman as Wolly corralled the two enemy planes into Helena's waiting gun sights.

"Clear skies, Shadow. All clear," Wolly relaying over the coms.

"Helena?" her voice a strained worry he had never witnessed to in all their years together.

"All clear! Angel and Quarterman at wings mend!" Pete sighed as they flew toward the channel.

"What the hell!" Pete shouted as he tossed his com link away, struggling at the clasps of his buckle. "Why the hell were we chased by Messier's this far out?"

"No clue," Myka shrugged, knowing what a bad fibber of tales she was.

"You need to be straight up with me!" Pete growled as he threw his harness aside.

"Plus six … plus seven …" Claudia's voice breaking the hard wall of silence between friend and co-pilot.

"All planes head for base," Myka's eyes never leaving Pete's as she heaved her com link off her head. The hour ticking away in a hard silence till the faint runway lights of the airfield appeared in sight.

"Shadow?"

"All clear, tower" Myka swallowing her last words.

"To hell it is!" Pete shouted as Myka steered the plane home.

"Ease down, Lattimer," Myka whispered as she led the small group toward the tarmac.

"What the hell Mykes?" Pete's eyes wide at the back of Myka as they exited the Shadow, both turning as they watched Helena and Wolly touch down. "Since when do you keep things a secret from me?"

"As per orders of the General," Myka whispered, her hand itching at the can in the pocket of her flight jacket as they watched the scruffy black fur round the corner of the warehouse door.

"Take care of Sammie?" Myka handing the can of fish over to her best friend.

"Since when do you abandon the little man? …" Pete halting his words as he watched the Angel race toward Myka, a curtain of black enveloping around dark, golden curls. Pete ducked his head, rubbing at the nap of his neck as Helena threw herself into Myka's arms.

"Yeah, okay?" he sputtered as he shifted his eyes down on the black feline that was rubbing at his heels. His cheeks flush at the sight of fingers threading through dense curls, lips as one as Myka gripped and held Helena's form wrapped around hers, holding flush under firm cheeks as Helena legs wrapped around her hips.

"Promise you will never leave me…" the words a faint buzzing in his ear as he left the Angel secure in the arms of the Ice Queen.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

"Captain Bering, a moment of your time?" the general's words more of an order then a request as the two women held 'at ease' in the general's office. The two women standing in front of the old, oil rubbed wood desk. Myka's hands itching to wipe away the charcoal trail of smoke and grease that stained around her cheeks from the flames of the number three engine.

"The camera array is secure?" the general never looking up from the files on her desk, nodding as the assistent left the office.

"Is that all you are concerned about?" Helena's words gritting through her teeth, her mind still racing at the thought of losing Myka to those damn gunners, and for what? A hunk of steel that housed some grainy pictures?

"Yes, General Frederic, " Myka gripping at Helena's hand as the Brit started to rush the wooden desk. "Stand down," Myka whispered near the shell of Helen's ear. Her fingers gripping tight as she pulled the woman flush to her side. "I need you beside me, not in the brig away from me," Myka whispered. Irene ducked her head, allowing the most of what little privacy was allowed in the small office.

"Recon needs a sympathetic eye, Captain?" Irene's eyebrow rising at the sight of the firm grip of her best pilot around the 'Angel'.

"This mess is pulling a wanton need," Helena whispering her words as she squeezed Myka's fingers, placing a chaste kiss on the American's cheek. The subtle display of affection not lost on the general as the Brit side-eyed the woman as her lips fell away from Myka's cheek.

"I will allow this small display, only once, in my office, Captain Wells, you are dismissed," the words cutting through Myka as she straightened her shoulders.

"We are joined," Myka's words filling the small room, their eyes watching as the general thumbed through the photos.

"Your words, General," Myka squaring her shoulders as she glared at Helena starting to exit the room. "My wingman, the Shadow's protector" her voice stern with a hint of defiance steeling each vowel.

"I am very aware of my 'special' instructions for the two of you, but a little decorum and respect shall be practiced in my presents, understood, Captain Wells?" her eyes peering over the dense, black, horn-rimmed frames resting on the bridge of her nose.

Helena nodded her understanding as she turned away from the door, both women watching as that famous 'Wells' pomp and bravado washed away the hint of worry from moments ago.

Myka was warring a battle inside herself as she watched the exchange of wills between the two women. Panic rising up, only to be crushed from a swelling tide of pride at Helena's responses, a fear of panic as Helena challenged the general's authority only to be soothed, like a mysterious, calming balm by a strange, silent understanding that fell between the three.

"Join me for sup?" Helena's words slipping with ease from her lips as her eyes narrowed at the general, relishing in the upheaval her words were causing.

"When Captain Bering is through with her evaluation from the recon, Captain Wells. And not a moment before," Myka's eyes shooting a worried glance to dark pools of brown.

"Of course, General," Helena bowing her head as she backed out the door. Her eyes shooting up, becoming entranced in light green. Myka felt the heated blaze of flame crossing her cheeks as she turned back to face the general, her embarrassment from the uncontrolled wide grin on her face from Helena's blatant disregard of authority conflicted with the ingrained respect to follow every rule by the book.

"And what are your thoughts, Captain Bering?" the general's voice causing Myka to physically flinch as the words released her from her thoughts. Herself being in total shell shock from the ghosting of Helena's soft words against the shell of her ear moments before...

"Helena is true to the cause. Her loyalty is without merit ..." Myka started to say, clamping her mouth shut as the general held her hand up.

"And her intentions?" the sage raising an eyebrow.

"I have instigated all forward attempts at seduction," Myka swallowing down and repressing the heated thoughts of their time near the lake.

"Not my question, but please, do elaborate." the general quirking a small smirk as she kept her eyes trained on the photos her assistant had brought in moments before, folding her hands together as she rested them on top of her desk.

"I mean, I umm …" Myka stuttered as she shifted back and forth on the heels of her leather, flight boots, wanting desperately to brush away the bead of sweat forming between the furrow of her brow. Her heart racing, threatening the life beating against her chest.

"At ease captain, just a little tease to ease the tension," her words flat and steady as she flipped the grainy photos toward the young woman that settled against the edge of her desk.

"Are you versed in the merits of rockets?"

"No, ma'am? Well, not well. The ability to launch an encased bomb from a fixed point instead of dropping from bomber doors is mere fantasy. Or is it?" Myka leaning closer to the grainy black and white photos on the edge of the general's desk, shuffling her hands into the back pockets of her flight suit.

"A V-rocket? I just thought that was mere speculation, science fiction from those trashy pulp novels. But if one was to replace the turboprops with jet engines?" General Frederic was smiling as she watched her best pilot formulate her ideas out loud. "The implications for speed and flight would be astounding. No need for lives lost on bombing raids when you could just launch the bomb from a secret location with the push of a button and …"

Irene frowned as she watched with the realization causing green eyes to blow wide. "The Nazi's have this technology and the recon pics we took tonight confirm this?" Myka was now pacing the room, her hand furiously rubbing at the back of her neck.

"Go see to your one, Captain Bering," the woman yanking the photos away from the captain's wide eyes.

"Perhaps a week furlough will erase thoughts of science fiction?"

"Maybe?" Myka mumbled as she stood back from the desk of the general. Her eyes dancing to the closed doors as she backed away.

"And our next recon assignment after this?"

"Are you familiar with the beaches of Normandy, Captain Bering?"

**XXX**

"Myka, stop lurking," Helena's voice was raised as she spoke over her shoulder, then rubbing her arm at the goosebumps that had popped up on her skin when the warm water started to cool.

"I'm not 'lurking'!" Myka's brow furrowing at the slight squeak in her voice. Her hands twisting at the ends of the towel draped over her shoulder as she stood just outside the door of the officer's Latrine. The steam from the shower playing havoc with her hair, "Damn curls," she huffed as her fingers tangled in her locks.

"Surely you have shared a shower or two with your fellow feminine cohorts during your time in the air corps?" the smirk of those words filling and engulfing the room. Helena shaking her head at her bold quip as she held her face up to warm shower of water cascading over her smile, closing her eyes as she sighed in contentment.

"Of course I have." the tease of the words pulling Myka into the small, steam filled room. "Just not with anyone I ache for," her voice trailing off to a soft whisper as the loud shut of the door drowned out her words.

"Am I assuming a comfortable telling since our shared embraced at the lake?" Helena was saying as she walked out of the stall, a towel wrapped around the slight slope of her hips, her chest bare as her body glistened from the beads, the other towel held firm in her right hand, head tilted to the side as she wrung out the water from her hair.

"No, no … I mean, yeah, we shared something intimate and obviously we share something and …" Myka's words tumbling as quickly as her hair care products from her arms. Her foot knocking against the bottle as they both watched it slide across the wet tile floor.

"Good going, Grace." Myka mumbled as she chased the runaway hair product. Her hand twitching on it as she raised her head, her body become a marble center piece in a garden as her eyes were entrapped by Mahogany.

"Perchance, a second date would be optimum before we venture into waterworks?" Helena turning away to hide the blush from her forward advances, silently cursing herself for pushing her heart's desire. While waiting for Myka, Helena had fought with her every last vestige of strength to repress the desire to alleviate the dull throbbing echoing through out her empty body. A rattle and clank sounding against the hollow cage that once held her heart.

"Yeah, I would like that. Even though I was all but assaulting you …" Myka started to feel light headed from the harsh rush of blood rising over her chest, slipping and fumbling for the turn knob of hot water in the shower stall.

"Some quite time to yourself, yes?" Helena was saying, hoping to give the woman and herself an escape or reprieve. Myka was straining to hear over the roar of the shower, trying to hear the rustle of clothes and then the harsh close of the metal door of the locker room door that never came. The lack of the closing sound causing Myka to drop her bar of soap.

"Just give me some time?" Myka stumbled, fumbling for her words as quickly as she chased the bar of soap around the enclosed tiled walls of the shower stall, frustration growing with every bounce and slip against slick tile walls. "I can fly a damn fortress but I can't grab an 'effing bar of soap,"

"I shall await you," Helena sighed as she closed the door to the shower behind her. "She is much more than a 'notch'," Helena sighed, her head thumping lightly at the back of the closed shower latrine. Her eyes closing tightly as she sucked in the thick air, her nostrils flaring as her lungs gasped to fill.

"You can do this old girl." Helena mumbling as she tightened her robe across her body, her face contorting as her fingers tangled in a small knot though her hair. "

Just lay splay what little of your heart is left." she shrugged.

She padded down the narrow wall of wood on the way through the barracks to their shared bunks. With each soft step of bare feet, the slap of the soul was matched with each thought that met hardwood floor; each cadence was met with thought as a plan started to form in her mind.

Helena rushed to clothe herself, letting out a muffled curse as her shoulder hit the side of the door as she hopped to put her boots on. Hoping to catch the young red head before lights out.

"Bloody damn things" she cursed as she grabbed at the nearest jacket on the wooden pegs near the door.

**XXX**

"So, explain this to me again?" Helena was huffing as she crossed her arms over the leather jacket she was wearing, her turning every so often to the door of the unlisted barracks, hoping to flee back before lights -out.

"Simple, HG." the young red-head rushing around to pack up the hidden contraband she had in her foot locker, stuffing the things in the duffle sack. "Amanda, a little background intel?" Claudia huffed, her eyes darting between the bottles of wine and blocks of cheese she was stuffing in the gunny sack.

"It goes like this," Amanda was saying as she put her arm around the Brit, turning them both away from the flurry of the young girl, "Officers have small lodges assigned to them when they come here. Because Myka is such a …"

"Badass pilot," Claudia piping in over her shoulder.

"Yes, the Ice Queen' has earned the best, though she only has ever used it to just read," Amanda smiling as they walked outside the barracks. Helena buried her hands further into the leather jacket she was wearing, her brow furring at the strange feel of jealousy trying to form in her stomach.

"Okay, let me explain," Amanda sighed, holding her hands up at the exasperated face.

"Here, just outside Grafton, the big-wig officers get their own cabins on the edge of the lake. Myka has only used her twice, for reading only. If you get my meaning?" Amanda's eyes were downcast as they walked the length of the wooden porch outside of the unlisted barracks.

"Their own private bordellos," both women jumping as Claudia came outside. "Not … I mean, I've never seen Myka use it for that, you know like the other pigs here. Not saying she is a pig …"

"Yes, Darling. I think I understand your meaning," Helena smiled, reaching for the heavy gunny sack Claudia had set down.

"I know about your reputation, Angel." Amanda's words stilling as fast as her hand on Helena's that reached for the sack.

"And what of it?" Helena sighed, jerking her hand away from under Amanda's. "Am I a common sot who is not good enough for your Captain?" the exasperation of her tone causing both women to shutter and step back.

"No, no ...not what she meant. Right, Amanda? I mean, if you are just looking for a quick …" Claudia then puffed her chest out, drawing out a harsh strength of protection for her captain, "Myka is like a big sis to me. If you are just wanting a quick fuck, I know lots of whores." the fire building to an inferno that blazed in the young girls eyes as she stalked forward, hands clenched in fists of rage.

"Okay, now." Amanda rushed with her words, grabbing the young girl by the shoulders. "Let's take a time out," Helena's brow furrowed the spark of productivity, then shining at the realization.

"Claudia, Sergeant Donovan." Helena grasping both shoulders of the young girl. "I have but nothing of utmost respect for Myka. I shall endeavor to please and respect her wishes, yes?"

"Yeah, just make sure you do that," Claudia's voice fading with each word as she backed into the doorway. Her finger sternly pointed at the RAF flying ace as the doors closed behind her.

"Don't mind her, she is just overly protective of our Captain," Amanda giving a light-hearted chuckle as she helped Helena with the overly heavy gunny sack. Both stopping at the cabin door.

"You should get back before lights-out," Helena shrugging as she hoisted the gunny sack into the woodshed next to the motor pool.

"Is the great HG Wells worried about us lowly enlisted?" Amanda smiling over her shoulder as they closed the door, making sure the sack was well hidden.

"You are a part of this cause?" Helena then looking up toward the blonde woman.

"Of course!" Amanda then leaning back as she crossed her arms.

"To defeat tyranny and repression?" Helena then yanking at the hem of the two-sized too big leather jacket around her.

"Just promise me," Amanda stuttering as she cleared her throat.

"I hold dear any promise I agree to. State your case," sniffing with a proud jut of her chin, then leaning back, wrapping the flaps of the oversized leather jacket around herself. Her eyes downcast as she waited for the berating she was so familiar to in the past.

"Don't break her heart or her break yours" the sounds of the words whispered against her ear startled her to the core. Her mouth hung open, no words, no thought coming out. The vice grip of the blonde crushing at her lungs. Her thoughts and quick quips escaping her as surely as that one German fighter so many years ago. "If you do break her, I will break you," Amanda whispering softly, her grip hard as she hugged Helena.

'By the way, Myka hates when she can't find her leather jacket," Amanda smiled and nodded towards the leather around Helena as she watched the slight figure settle against the woodshed near the motor pool.

"Helena?" the voice a mere whisper, on the other hand, the rough prodding against her shoulder was enough to wake her out of the semi slumber that had overtaken her during the night.

"We have a week's furlough. Have just the place to get away." Myka was saying, Helena rubbing the sleep crust from her eyes, focusing on the tall America tossing their gunny sacks into the back of the jeep.

Helena stood up, with the aid of the rough wooden beam near her, "What, no Tea? Savages!" Helena huffed as she dusted off her pants.

"Talk to the Boston rebels," Myka grinned as she put the 'three on a tree' into first.

"You coming?" the lop-sided grin shining her way almost caused her near downfall. Her knees quivering as she cursed herself inwardly.

'Get a grip Wells'


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**A/N Future thoughts and actions are in Italics. The story is nearing the end. Maybe a few more chapters.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Syfy.**

* * *

"So, Captain Bering. Where are you taking us?" Helena asked with a playful grin, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned sideways in the jeep to the woman who was nearing the gates of the base.

"I think we need some things from town before going to the cabin," Myka's eye steady on the gravel road, then nodding to the sentry at the gate as she drove the jeep past the bounds of the base.

"Claudia can get most things, but I think a few hours around the village would do us both good," Myka finally shooting a quick flash of green to the passenger with her…

**_Grafton Underwood Air force base 1945_**

"_Sammie?" Myka's voice rising with worry as she searched the old warehouse hangar for the scruffy furball she had come to love, a can of tuna in her hand as she clicked her tongue._

_Myka sighed as she opened the can, her eyes trained on her endeavor to open the tin can; the soft rustle near the back of the warehouse had her turning around, "There you are my little ma…" Myka freezing in place as she watched the small, dark silhouette move into the pale, moonlight room. Sammie wrapped snug in the little arms of the six year old little girl with a tattered dress as the soft shuffle of worn soles came into view._

"_Please, miss. Do not be cross,"_

**_England 1969_**

"_Atriums! Stop pushing your sister," Myka huffed as she softly slammed her book down on the wooden slats of the bench they were sitting on, a bit of 'old age' exacerbation lacing her words as Helena smiled. A soft hand gently squeezing her thigh as the tall woman started to stand up._

"_Stand down, general," Helena's voice soft against the shell of Myka's ear as she leaned in, a bit of mirth curling just up to the corners of her lips as she stood, smoothing down the long, old RAF jacket she wore._

"_Our Christina can fend for herself," Helena stepping back a half foot from the cold glare._

"_But what if Arty is too rough…" Myka's words laced with worry as her eyes shot over the dark blue coated shoulder._

"_My love," Helena leaning down, cupping Myka's jaw in her palm so green was imprisoned in Mahogany. "I shall handle this, yes?" her mouth brushing against bee-stung lips, entrapping the rushed breath of surrender into her lungs._

"_Atriums Bering Wolcott, front and center, now!" the rushed words causing all those at the playground to freeze like statues in the Queen's garden._

"_Mummy?" two, pitiful voices rose in the air as two small pair of hazel eyes looked down. Both children rushing to their mother's waiting arms._

"_Great, way to go, Angel. Get the whole playground to seize up in fear," Myka mumbled, pulling her wife's arms tighter against her as she stood up, hooking her arm around her waist, "Now that you have the undivided attention of the whole place…" Myka fighting off the old ailment of the blush of crimson to her cheeks as she nodded with a half-smile to some of the frozen faces of other parents as they grabbed their own children._

_Fending off the rush of embarrassment, Helena held her head high as she was pulled closer, relishing in the warmth and love and if she was being honest with herself. Loving the feel of possessiveness from her wife. Her fingers tangling in those glorious locks as their bodies meshed together, even after all these years together._

"_Go tend to 'your' grandchildren," Myka smiling into the soft, lingering kiss she had bestowed her wife, breaking away with a short, heated breath, jaded, green irises blown dark with an age old lustful feeling._

"_Why are they 'my' grandbabies when they act up?" Helena mock pouting as she backed away from the embrace._

"_That Wells rebellion is ingrained, even though osmosis," Myka trying her best at a smirk, but only able to enact her lopsided grin. _

_Between the two, after many decades of many nights looking in the mirror, trying her best, only to concede that her Brit had the innate ability and jelly-knee effect of the swagger and smirk between the two of them._

_Helena crossing her arms as she watched those sarcastic words roll off ruby lips. Turning with a faux huff as she marched down to the playground and memorial erected in the middle of the small village near the old air base. The sight where the local pub once stood._

"_As I do recall, that Wells rebellion was most welcome that first night," Helena replying over her shoulder with that self-assured smirk that had first melted her heart in that park so many decades ago. _

"_Nooo, that morning after the worst hangover known to mankind," she replied to the grin she knew was spreading as she glared into the back of that old, blue RAF over coat._

"_Pish, tosh," Helena's fingers wiggling over her shoulder as she lined their grandchildren in her crosshairs._

_Myka sat back down on the park bench as she crossed her arms, pulling her head back after glimpsing silver streaked hair that was tossed over her favorite old RAF coat the woman donned just for her. Wearing it with as much charm and grace as the lateish fashion from the house of Chanel she normal donned when teaching the young minds at the Uni for the last two decades since the war._

"_Charmer," Myka mumbled as she crossed her arms. Her one hand escaping to trace against the book resting on the bench, her finger slowly circling over the raised letters of the author's last name._

"_Wells," she smiled._

_Myka leaned back against the rigid back of the park bench, arms stretching over the length of the wooden back, heavy-lidded eyes struggling to watch as the great fighting ace wrangled their grandchildren together, "She is the best," Myka mumbled as she closed her eyes, her face turning to the west to gather up what little rays of sunlight were allowed to escape from the embrace of the dark, grey English countryside._

**_XXX_**

"The Slaughtered Lamb?" Helena questioned with a perfectly sculpted raised eyebrow as Myka pulled the jeep up to the front of the small public house.

"Not a fan of Mutton?" Myka giving a sarcastic grin as she set the jeep in park. Helena's breath hitched as she watched those fingers grip, knuckles white as she gripped and then pulled the lever to the parking brake.

"This sleath figure was not made of 'country' cooking," Helena remarked as she peeled herself out of that god-awful transportation, stretching her back, hands pressed into the back of her hips, taking extra glee when spying Myka watching from the side, her grin spreading at the thought of catching the attention of her American chauffeur.

As Myka spoke, Helena was shaken from the warring thoughts that struggled inside her, of trying to balance the wanton desires of her body that warred with her heart's placement of this heroic, erudite woman, on a pedestal of reverence.

"A bottle or three, of good whiskey?" Myka grinned, shrugging off her leather flight jacket in favor of the other she had placed behind the seat of the jeep. Helena then digging her nails into the palms of her hands as she gripped tighter, watching as the woman straightened her dress Brown jacket from the long drive. Helena giving a slight frown at the absent of medals and ribbons from the side lapel of Myka's dress jacket.

"Should I be worried from your lack of adornment, Captain Bering?" needing to distract herself from her confusing emotions, Helena hooked a tentative arm into the tall American's.

"I think a few drinks and a good meal in a public place would serve well, less pressure of expectations from ether one of us?" Helena catching the slight dip of Myka's head and the rush of red from the imposing woman that held the door open for her.

"Are you courting me, Captain Bering?" not being able to reset the slight tease, Helena then gripping over the tentative hand that held the door.

"I do believe we have passed that point of no return since that picnic at the lake, maybe?"

"Maybe?" the rush of red adopting to a grated rub against that regal, slender neck, caused the 'Wells' bravado to escape all reason. Myka closed the door in front of them, leading them around the side of the pub, pulling Helena flush against her.

"Look, this is not my first rodeo. General Frederic may have ordered this… whatever this is," Myka pulling Helena to the corner of the building, both women giving a faint smile to the farmer trying to round them toward the front door of the pub.

"I just do not want to assume anything …" Myka's words fading with each letter as Helena's fingers moved closer, her warm palms sliding up under the lapel of Myka's dress brown jacket, her fingers toying at the brown tie tucked into the second button of the pale brown shirt, losing the grip of that Windsor knot she felt was strangling what little decorum her American was trying to maintain.

Myka's head was light from the fight of properties and wills, the intoxicating aroma of Helena's perfume drawing her closer, her tongue slipping slightly between parted lips as to moisten her dry bottom lip, her fingers gripping up and under that dashing blue RAF coat Helena had adorned for the drive, a slight chill in the English countryside air warning of the winter to come.

"You wish a press of emotion in this dank setting?" Helena's lips ghosting against the moisten bottom lip. Her head spinning as she watched her repressed dream unfolding before her, the rush of emotion flooding those jade eyes at her very touch. The rhythmic thump of heart beats against the palms of her hands as if Myka's heart was to reach out and take the very life of its invader...

Myka's sudden reaction to those words gripped and dug into Helena's hips, her head light as Myka backed away just out of the reach of her lips.

"A proper kiss is needed," Helena breathless husked against the side of the glorious, pale neck. Her willing herself to heed her reactions as Myka's fingers possessed her hip bones.

"A need for a slow burn?" Helena's words escaping as her hands worked their way around the back of Myka's 'dress brown' jacket. Her hips giving a slight 'yes' as Helena's fingers toyed at the hem of Myka's dress slacks.

"Meaning?" Myka's words reverberating against the hollow of Helena's throat in a breathless gasp.

"May I suggest our ramparts be less public?" clearing her throat,

"least be seen by the locals,"

Helena barely able to retort, gripping against Myka's back as she tried to settle her weakening knees from the pull of those arms wrapped around her waist. Her head starting to swim as Myka lifted her ever so slightly up, their bodies sliding against each other until their chins touched.

"Where is that Wells bravado I fell for in the park?" Myka's breaths hot and moist as they fell against the nook of Helena's throat, her strong arms holding up the shaking form of her Brit beauty flush against the rough wood of the siding of the pub.

"Behave as such and you shall be awarded," Helena's shaking finger wrapping around a curled tress that had escaped that tight bun Myka always sported as she placed a gentle kiss on the apex of Myka's nose.

"You are my escort." Myka filing away her wanton desires over to logic as she lowered Helena's body, the woman sighing as she felt her booted heels touch solid ground. Her fingers refusing to relinquish their grip on those curls.

Drawing the woman's lips to hers, "Shall we Captain Bering?" Helena bowing her head slightly as she held the door open.

**XXX**

Myka sat with her back pressed against the old apple wood back of the booth set in the far end of the public house, her hooded eyes watching as Helena leaned in on the bar on her elbows, her black, booted leg propped on the old brass foot-rest of the bar. Myka's hand matching Helena's move for move as those fingers threaded through dark locks. Her bottom lip worrying in her teeth as she twirled her finger in that stray lock.

'As if two lost souls across a crowded room,' Helena's eyes locking in on Golden green, both women laughing softly as they bent their heads down.

"Peas in a pod," Myka and Helena whispered at the same time, their fingers stopping the thread of their fingers through their locks.

**XXX**

"_You are such a bull," Myka's words causing an eyebrow to rise as the older woman gripped the young swarms of their grandchildren in her arms._

"_I have killed 53 Messier's, but this young master and Lady are my Waterloo?" Helena huffed as she adjusted the young boy on her left hip, young Christina snug as a bug as she gripped her grandma's leg._

"_I didn't say that," Myka's grin as wide as her grandson's as he wiggled out of his Mema's arms. His small feet hitting the dirt, and then rushing to his Nana's arms._

"_Such a Mama's boy." Helena huffed as she ran her fingers through her silver tinged locks. "He is definitely from the Bering side of the family," Helena smudged as she eased the steel grip of Christina's arms from around her leg._

"_Something wrong with that?" Elizabeth ever so lightly said to her adopted mother as she walked to the two women. The Wells swagger preceding her as Wolly Jr. followed close behind his wife._

"_Nana Myka, a little sense?" Wolly Jr. huffed as he chased his son, grabbing and then placing the boy on his hip._

"_I could never talk sense into your Mother," Myka's smile growing as her head fell to the book on the bench. "No matter the influences, I tried," her eyes rising to meet brown._

"_That public house was all you're doing," Helena huffed as she crossed her arms, her eyes darting to her daughter then to her wife._

_"Until braekfast in bed," Myka smirked. Proud of herself to be able to bring a blush to her wife's cheeks._

**XXX**

Myka watched, her eyes following the removal of the dark blue coat. Her tongue darting out to moisten her dry lips as she watched Helena roll up the sleeves of the light blue uniform shirt as she rounded the bar.

"My God," the words escaping Myka's lips before she could secure her thoughts. 'How could this beauty ever fall for me?" her lips quivering as her thoughts rushed out.

After what seemed liked hours of Helena not being seen after she ducked under the bar, Myka worried her bottom lip. Standing up, she made her way to the bar, leaning over to try and see what she was doing. Her hips raising as she leaned further over, her left boot pressing her weight on the brass foot rest.

"Helena?" her eyes darting up to be met with sparkling brown as the two owners of the pub stood back, watching the engineering professor and flying ace fine tune their money maker.

Myka let out her breath as she watched Helena popped up from under the kegs, "Just a good bleeding of the lines and it should be right as rain," Helena saying as she stood up, wiping her bare arm across her forehead, wrench clutched firm in her hand. The grease smudged across her brow as she set her hands down the old, polished wood of the bar, the smile growing as wide as the grease streaked across her head as she met green eyes.

"'ello, love," she grinned to Myka, Mary then bumping against Helena's shoulder after she poured two pints from the now working taps. Myka unable to stop her grin just as much as her body leaning to meet the incredible woman on the other side of the bar.

"The incredible Wells to the rescue," Myka grinned as she leaned in further. Mary clearing her throat, stopping the meeting of said lips.

"Wells, you say?" Mary said as she set the two pint glasses down, "Of the Wells of London? Bar owners or that god-awful writer?" her eyes looking the woman up and down. "Heard they were related to that strange writer fellow," she scuffed as she turned to the bottles lining the back of the shelf.

"No relation," Helena whispering as she grinned, her eyes never leaving the pools of green in front of her, her fingers dancing across the callused hand of the bomber pilot in reverence. Both total oblivious to all around them.

"Wells, by way of Essex," Myka whispered, her fingers dancing away and then on top of Helena's hand. Her knee bouncing with nerves as her foot rested on the brass bar. "The Midnight Angel, by way of Essex," Myka beaming with pride as her eyes darted to the woman setting two glasses next to them on the bar.

"And this brash, young yank?" Mary retorting as she poured the amber liquid into the two glasses.

"Captain Myka Ophelia Bering, by way of Colorado," Helena's voice filled with reverence as she introduced Myka to the couple. Her fingers tangling in Myka's as she then raised them up to meet her lips.

"Such a find," Helena was saying as she finally made her way to the back of the pub. Her grin was reaching ear to ear as she placed the two pints on the old, polished table. Her fingers gripping the edge of the wood as she leaned in, her lips ghosting just before Myka's.

"I do so hope you enjoy Banger's and mash," Helena winked as she took a long draw from her pint, her thumb brushing at the foam on her upper lip.

"And if I don't?" Myka grinned into her pint of dark beer. Their eyes a guard and prisoner at play before the wife's owner placed the plates down before the women.

"And a little something for your help," the heavy, dark green bottle settling hard on the oak table, caused Myka to jump in Helena's arms as quick as the wink from the wife's owner.

"Please, subdue your worries," Helena was saying as she cut up the tubed meat, running it through the mash and brown gravy as she looked up, her hand cradled under the messed concoction.

"Fine, whatever you assume," Myka's words almost as firm on Helena's wrist as her hand, guiding the fork fully to her mouth.

The women joked and laughed throughout the evening, the owner's wife smiling as she polished the glasses, watching the two women eat and drink.

"Remember when love was young?" she whispered to her husband as he wrapped his beefy arms around the thickness of his wife's hips.

"Say we leave the heroes of the UK to themselves, Mary?" the woman frowning as she elbowed her husband.

"No matchmaking, Mary" he mock glared.

"Just not too long, I think that Yank has Irish in her," Mary smiling as she handed the fresh bottle of Irish whiskey to her husband, "Be a dear and make sure that room upstairs has fresh sheets, love."

Helena was pouring the last of the amber liquid into their glasses, her face frowning as she looked at the aged hand that stilled on the neck of the bottle of whiskey.

"Baby?" Myka's voiced dark with the whiskey and something else.

"A room?" Helena clearing her throat as she tried to focus her eyes on the hand that held back Myka's release.

"Please?" Myka's words a plea against her ear as her American leaned against her. The warmth of the firm palm fueled by the warm, moist breath felt like a burning need, Myka's thumb tracing small circles against her inner thigh under the table was the final straw.

"Mrs. Kelly?' Helena asked as she rose up, her arm a vice grip around Myka's waist, watching as her other hand grabbed the dark green bottle. "Your nearest room?

"Anything for our people in uniform," the woman leading the two women up the stairs of the public house. "It may not be the Ritz," the woman saying as she held open the door to the only guest room ready to receive company.

"Anything I can get you, Angel?"

"No, love. I think the 'Ice Queen and I are …" Helena trying her best to turn her head as Myka wrapped her long arms around her neck, pulling them down on the feather bed.

The call names just settling in her brain.

"Pardon?" Helena was saying, her breath escaping her as Myka wrapped her long leg around Helena's hip, yanking the woman down on the bed with her.

"A pitcher of water coming. Think you can wait till then?" the owner's wife winking as she closed the door behind her.

"Baby?" Myka's voice a rough plea as she rolled them over, her arms shaking as she rested her weight above her Brit. Her eyes rolling back as her hips started to canton of their own fruition.

"A moment's reprieve?" Helena asking/pleading as she gripped Myka's face between her hands.

A frustration escaping her lips as Myka's legs clamped down around her hips, stilling the heated embrace between them.

"A moment's reprieve my love?"

" Why?" the rasp escaping the fading lips against her chest as Myka fought sleep.

"I wish us both to remember this moment,"

"Umm, okay." the breaths fading as fast as Myka's soft fingers that traced around the chest bone of Helena's heart. Her lips leaving a faint fire against her lover's breasts as she wrapped them in a loving embrace.

"Tomorrow shall dawn upon our love,"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

* * *

**A/N A few more chapters? Not much response so will try to wrap this up soon.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Syfy**.

* * *

"Surrender all you dreams to me tonight, they will come true in the end," Myka's sleep addled mumblings were quickly halted from the accidental jab of an elbow against her hip bone. The warm body unpeeling itself from the grip of those long legs.

The loss of warmth from that furnace of body heat, stoked from the whiskey fueled night, was fading quickly. The damp cold morning air now invading the rough sheets of the empty space, causing the sleeping woman to roll on her back as she wrapped her arms over her bare midriff. The slight shift of the old mattress, coupled with the sudden polar shifts from secure warmth to abandoned cold against her body drew an unconscious response.

Years of military training were ingrained in the American captain, coursing through her veins, entrenched in every fiber of her being to react to any threat, foreign or domestic. A call to duty at a moment's notice, something she prided herself on and even now with her senses dulled, her body reacted. She was a hair's breathe out of deep slumber, her brow furrowing in frustration at the rude interruption of the few reprieves her mind allotted her.

The pilot moaned curses even too salty for the most weathered sailor as her mind's eye gave way from the enjoyment of slipping her knotted tie over raven locks, fingers tracing over each freckle as they ventured across the smooth expanse of porcelain skin, now becoming a darkened tunnel collapsing in upon itself to the waking reality.

Myka rested her weight on her shaking elbows as she propped her upper body, tightly shut eyes started to pry open, giving way to blurry, sea foam green trying to focus in on the cause of her sudden, awaking state. Surveying her surroundings; her eyes froze just over her still clothed body, if you could call an unbuttoned dress brown shirt with only 'standard issued regulation' Army Corp. underwear just barely covering above her pubic bone.

Myka groaning as her head fell back on the pillow after spying the one brown sock still clad on her right foot, her other bare.

"Can I be any more of a dork?" huffing to herself, trying desperately to tame the wild curls she for sure knew was giving the best impersonation of a brillo pad. "I am the only one cursed with this hair, or am I?" her mind racing up and down the shelves in the recesses of her mind for any evidence, just a single picture of her father in his younger days. "Dad has been as bald as a cue ball…" Myka chewing her bottom lip, a stray, tamed curl wrapping around her finger

"You can let me down easy, but not tonight," those accented words were spoken early that evening, reverberated against whiskey soaked grey cells as vivid scenes of hands groping, fingers tugging at faint blue clothing as pale, porcelain skin was revealed with each divest of a piece of uniform.

Shaking the lustful memories clear as she lulled her head to the side, peering at the woman precariously tittering on the edge of the bed, the only hindrance was the blanket that had once lain upon them both, now cocooned around her.

"Did we?" Myka's whispered repressed thoughts that were spoken aloud, her filter for restraint between brain and mouth had checked out for lunch when being handed out. The heart breaking quiver of doubt waking the Brit completely from her fog induced haze, her heart then started to pound, causing her body to bolt up into full attention, her body erect as her bare feet hit the cold floor of the old public house.

"No, Love? I assume?" Helena shaking as much as her fingers that tangled through her mushed black locks, wrapping them up in a makeshift bun as she bolted out of their bed, her eyes dancing around the room, the full on military training barely able to still the lump of full on panic that set in her throat as she tried to assess the level of threat, if any, to the beautiful woman laid splayed before her.

Myka blushed as she tried to gain her love's attention, her fingers circling around her neck as she watched her Angel fumble for the discarded blue coat on the floor.

"Umm, babe?" Myka whispered, her protesting, aching body refusing to release anything else coherent from her lips as she finally surrendered her attempt at speaking.

"Yes, my love?" Helena's breathe rushed as she spun around, the open flaps of her RAF coat gently fluttering against her pale, bare skin, never noticing the brown cloth around her neck.

"Hold that thought," she rushed her words, her finger a prayed barrier, a thin veil that caught what little strength she willed for as she caught herself from tumbling back into the bed that held her heart.

"But …" Myka's lips clamping shut from the firm push of a shaking finger against her lips. Helena dancing a waltz with busing fingers, one pressing on those heavenly lips, the other fumbling to button up the dark blue coat.

"I shan't be but a few ticks," Helena rushing her words as she leaned against the closed door of their room, huffing and cursing softly as she struggled to don her bare feet with the standard black, RAF boots, no socks.

XX

Myka had held the thin sheet tight against her, the duvet snug just under her chin as she watched the door of the public house slam shut, wincing from the low thud, her head still protesting the effects of the libations from that evening.

"Doughnuts to dollars she does not notice my tie," Myka mumbling through a mouth full of toothpaste as she tried her best to freshen up in the make shift bathroom that seconded as the closet. The mysterious toothbrush gripped between her teeth as she looked herself up and down in the mirror, huffing as she wiped away the condensation of hot water misting up the small vanity mirror…

"Great, just great Bering. So sexy," her eyes staring at the one bare foot and then to the other clad in her brown sock as she buttoned up her uniform shirt, her brow furrowing at the lapse of her bra.

Her eyes widening as she heard the soft clunk of those boots growing in increased volume up the stairs, rushing to spit out the last of the baking soda substitute for toothpaste she had found hidden under the makeshift sink.

"Frak frak frak," she cursed under her breath as she lunged for the bed, the duvet just covering her up as the lock clicked, Myka watching as the backside covered in that blue RAF coat bumped the door open, backing into the small room.

"Myka, darling. Are you awake?" the voice was soft as the young woman peered over the frayed edge of the hand sewn quilt.

"Mary was a dear and had breakfast ready to plate," Helena was saying as she turned around, balancing the tray as she struggled to toe the boots off. Myka trying her best to repress her grin as she watched the brown cloth around Helena's neck swing too and fro.

"I'm awake," Myka answered as she pushed herself up, turning to set the pillows against the headboard for the both of them.

"Breakfast in bed? Don't really remember learning this," she remarked, twisting back around at the soft feel of the mattress next to her side of the bed lower.

"Neither did I, but our hostess seems a bit smitten with the cathartic thought of 'The pride of the UK mingling with those Irish heathen Yanks, for God and Queen' together in her 'humble abode' and I quote," Helena radiating a soft amusement as she lifted the cover to the two plates sitting on the tray in her lap.

"She seemed somewhat insistent on a proper English breakfast for my 'Brash Yank' as she so lovingly referred to you as." Helena's lips tightening in a forced smile as she set the tray between the two of them.

Myka watched as Helena's brow furrowed at the last of her words, her fingers alighting on Helena's forehead as the woman started to fork at the yellow yoke.

"Such a harsh clash between us Americans?" Myka asked, the wonderment small, but the hint of prejudice was left to fester in the middle of the small room.

"I only wished to serve you breakfast in bed …" Helena's voice trailing off, her brow furrowing as she set about to her task.

"Are you ashamed that your Icenian ancestors are rolling in their grave with the thought of a 'yank' Irish rough, in your bedchamber?" Myka's voice as strong as her insecurity.

"Those Stonehenge Druids be damned," Helena whispered as she spooned a bit of the black pudding on the egg, holding it to just hover below Myka's chin.

"My escort in shining armor?" Myka smirked, her fingers brushing along the firm wrist, the warmth felt just under the soft skin of the Angels wrist. Her pupils blowing dark with desire as she watched bee-stung lips wrap around the fork, a bit of yellow and black tinging the corner of Myka's lip.

"Are you my 'Boudicca'?" Myka's voice filled with smoke and lust as her fingers danced between the low opening of the RAF jacket Helena still adorned, the older woman completely oblivious to brown cloth around her neck, at least until Myka's firm grip pulled, drawing the woman's lips closer to hers.

The thought of her 'Helena' down stairs, naked with just her swagger, her chin tilted in a pompous air, only clad in her dark blue RAF jacket, black flight boots, Myka's brown tie brushing against bare skin around her neck, elicited feelings that scared her, her analytical ID ego taking over to recover what little pride she assumed was needed.

Somewhere in the throes of drunken passion, between the heated gaps of air as Myka striped Helena bare. The Brit had somehow managed to wrangle the brown; Windsor knotted cloth from around the brash yank, it somehow finding its setting place around a pale, bi-freckled chest.

"I adore you," Myka mumbled, her knuckles painted white from the possessive grip around her tie, drawing Helena further against her burning lips.

"And what of our English hostess endeavors for a meal?" Helena panting out her desperate need for air as burning lips seared their brand across her throat. Helena throwing her head back with a slight hiss, her sideling upon Myka's lap, the glorious pain of possessive fingers digging into her hips as Myka pulled their bodies flush, the canton of their hips causing a realization to escape as Myka tugged forcibly on her tie wrapped around Helena's neck.

"Stop being so noble," Myka's words a heated growl as she gripped lightly at the outer shell of Helena's earlobe with her teeth, her one hand forcing Helena down to her lips as she tugged at her tie around Helen's neck. Her fingers causing indentations on that firm, white cheek, gripped possively in her other hand.

Their heated gasps for air becoming a joined mantra as they rocked their bodies against one another. Helena lost almost to her thoughts; the only sound on this earth that trued her soul was what Myka was eliciting in her ear at this very moment. She would forgo the seven levels of death, chase Perditions flame to the ends of the earth just to bear witness to the sweet sounds of this woman withering in ecstasy from her touch

XXX

"Does this coast line ring true with either of you?" both women giving each other blank looks.

The grainy photos of the Normandy coast set in front of them, "Should it?" Helena replied, the quick, sarcastic remark cut short by the sternness of the general as her fingers tapped on the blurred photos.

"Your history none with standing," the sage raising an eyebrow, daring the Brit to speak.

"Your loyalty standing next to you, yes?" the older woman's eyes narrowing as she held the flying ace in her sight.

"Without question," Helena clearing her throat as her fingers tightened behind her, her shoulders squaring as she fought between 'at ease' and the urgent need to flee.

Myka squared her shoulders in automated response, fighting her very being to glance over at the woman she loved, an urgent need to protect her almost overcoming her first loyalty to her country and first in command.

'What the hell?' Myka whispered as she moved closer to her escort.

"General?" Myka asked.

"This assignment is nothing to be trifled with, Captain Bering … Captain Wells?"

"Helena?" Myka whispered under her breath, her eyes watching as the RAF ace raced for the door.

"What the hell am I missing?" Myka growled as she staked to the front of the general's desk, being rebuffed as Helena rushed out the door.

"I know about her daughter being killed in the blitz screen," Myka's voice a low bass as she approached the general's desk.

"Square her head for this Captain Bering. The Shadow and all the Intel she gathers is of the utmost." the sage's words trailing off as the door slammed shut.

"And what of hers?" Myka hissing as she tossed her arm behind her.

"Know your place captain," the general slamming her fist down on the old, worn oak table. "This recon is beyond reproach," the older woman gripping her fists, eyes stern as she checked down her best pilot.

"Beyond the loss of a child?" Myka not caring if she was brought up on court martial charges.

Helena sighed as she thumped her head against the door of the general's office, her love of fighting for them both slid to a dark place , her hiding as a coward gripped her heart, this woman standing toe to toe for her honor, for her Christina's honor, befell her heart, her knuckles turning white at her grip on the handle.

"Myka, No"

.


	10. Chapter 10

**chapter 10**

* * *

"Can I help you Captain Wells?" The general raised an eyebrow at Helena as she rushed back into the office as the voices faded behind closed doors.

"No, I mean…" Helena was breathless as she clutched the brass handle of the wooden door. Moments before, she had been stock still, her head thumping against the outer wall as she tried to make sense of the heated words between Myka and the general, crying out to her as she thought of Myka defending her, without escort.

"Ma'am, may I?" Helena asked as she shut the door behind her., her brow furrowed at the absence of the tall American in the room, eyes narrowing as they searched for the woman. But never letting her body betray her honor, her duty to crown and country, squaring her shoulders as she stood at full attention.

"If you must," the woman sighed as she took off the thick, black horned glasses.

"Please do not hold Captain Bering to her whims of words." Helena said as she sat down, following the woman's eyes to the chair in front of her desk.

"Go on, Captain Wells," the woman clearing her throat, stilling her fingers on the black and white photos on her desk. "Enlighten me on Captain Bering's 'whims'. Both of us knowing full well she is not one to entertain them" the woman leaning on her elbows planted firmly on the desk as she leaned forward. "Tell me why Captain Bering does do not warrant a write up for a court martial?"

"You know damn well, Irene. General Frederic" Helena's voice rising the first few seconds, falling then to a resound hush as the glare of the woman softened as her eyes forced the flying ace to settle in the chair, the Brit then staring at her clutched fingers resting in her lap.

"Don't test me, Helena," her voice stern.

"France," Helena whispered, her eyes downcast as she was fidgeting with the hem of her leather jacket.

"And Myka should bear the brunt of your Waterloo?" Dark eyes boring into the woman, giving in to pity as the softness was taking hold.

"Your Christina?" the voice a faint whisper of a question, watching the shrinking, small form shake in the large, wooden chair.

_Irene had known, for many years that the Angel chased her demons through the cold, countless kills. She waving her hand and scoffing at the files Artie had placed on her desk so many kills ago._

"_Your son, Scott is in the reserves, stateside?" she had asked her major as she thumbed through the file._

"_Yes. And what of it?" the portly major asked, pushing up his brass rimmed glasses over the bridge of his now perspiring nose._

"_And how would you respond if it was your only child killed?" she asked, her shoulders rising up to defend the onslaught that she knew was coming. _

"_She is a loose cannon, MacPherson has all but spelled out her long game!" the horned words reverberating around the small office. "How can you trust this woman with our best pilot?" Artie ranted._

"_Because this is a destiny beyond our control,"_

Helena nodded as her face studied the floor. A frown forming as she spotted a scuff mark on the toe of her black boots. "I have protected all UK flights and your fellow countrymen." Helena's words echoing up from her leather boots.

"It is Normandy, Helena. Not France." the woman stated as her hand reached for the shaking form across from her. "Myka is your one, you're chosen."

"I know," the voice a faint wisp.

"Your responsibility," the voice gentle as firm fingers griped weakened fingers clutched together.

"I know," the cadence in her voice rising a bit at the soft comfort of strong hands clasping hers.

"Your charge, her escort,"

"I know!" Helena yelled, shooting up from her seat. "Don't you think I realize that?" Helena's voice cracking as she rushed her fingers through her black hair, spinning around on her booted heels as she shook herself from the grip of the older woman. "She is all I think about, my charge, my life, my reason for …" her words falling as fast as her hand that waved over the general's desk.

"You planned this," the lone finger pointing at the general.

"I did no such thing," the voice steady as she smoothed down her uniform, settling herself behind the desk. "And what if I did? Did I know that the two of you would fall in love?" she scoffed.

"You went over Macpherson's head and pushed me to this God forsaken armpit of England." Helena huffed as her fingers tangled in her hair. "You knew I could not …" Her voice began, shaking as she spun around, her eyes narrowing at the general behind her desk. She opened her mouth to make the accusation.

"You spied on us those days in the park." Helena's fingers gripped the edge of the desk, nails digging under years of old Beeswax polish as she leaned in with her hips.

"Stand down, Helena." The older woman warned, eyes trained on the photos on her desk, never looking up at the woman.

"You knew I fancied her?" Helena ached in a low growl. "How could you …"

"That need to protect … is your strong suit" the woman clearing her throat as she stood up, toe to toe with the flying ace. "I need your best, Myka needs your best."

"That is without question," Helena responded, eyes steeled in a standoff, neither daring, nor risking to yield.

"Your redemption, Captain Wells," the general setting back down in her office chair, a hand flipping over her shoulder as she waved to the back door of her office.

"She is not Christina," Helena's voice low, crossing her arms over her leather flight jacket as she looked at the back door over the general's shoulder.

"No, she is not." the woman's voice clear as she went on. "But she is your charge and is in the back of 'Shadow' retrofitting the camera for your next assignment. I suggest you take your leave before I lose what little patience I have left."

"The Shadow, you say?" Helena walking briskly to the back door of the general's office.

"Please do not interfere with the retrofitting of the camera array, Helena." a sly smile gracing the older woman, her eyes downcast to the photos on her desk.

"I will try my best, Irene." the door flying open, the older woman smiling as she listened to the rushed rustle of the uniform out of the door behind her.

XXX

"And if we get too much flack?" Myka was asking, pointing to the flimsy frame the camera was mounted on as she kneeled down, and watching Amanda help Claudia work inside the small turret in the stern of her plane.

"Three plates of steel protecting this puppy," Claudia responded as she tapped her wrench against the plate of the frame. "And you never told us of how that weekend of yours went with the 'Angel'?"

Myka's hand brushed against the folded map in her pocket in her flight suit, knowing she would need time alone with Helena to go over the planned route. Her thoughts tussling with a dinner?

Maybe?

But spam in the mess made her stomach turn. All she wished was for a few clicks of time alone with the woman.

"None of your business, Sergeant, and my plane is not some stray little dog" Myka sniped as she frowned at the smile growing on Amanda's face.

"Just fly us clear of flack, cap. I am choosy about my bumpy rides" Amanda smiled as she patted Myka's bent knee on the steel plating on the floor of the plane.

"Tell that to your boyfriend," Myka smirked as she removed Amanda's hand from her knee, her one arm gripping the frame of the plane above her as she started to rise up. Needing to defuse the racing thoughts speeding through her head at the last 24 hours they had spent together.

Her fingers clasping at the small band of gold that laid against her chest under her flight suit. Her grand mama's old wedding ring from the old country that her mother clasped to a small, plain gold chain around her neck before she was shipped off to flight school.

Her Irish-Catholic baptism chain and cross that was placed around her neck when she was wee old from her parents and Father Murphy of the church only ruled her life when need be.

And Helena was becoming a '_need be_' in her life.

XXX

" Ello, 'ello?" the soft, Essex voice wafting through the empty belly of the plane, reverberating against the newly patched siding of the aluminum frame. Helena hoping the care free greeting would not scare off the flighty captain.

Helena had calmed herself on the long walk across the airstrip to where the 'Shadow' sat for repairs. Her mind reeling with thoughts of that morning spent in the small inn discovering the vast expanse of one Myka Ophelia Bering. The soft curses mingling with throated moans caused the flying ace to tighten the space between her thighs as she walked. Thoughts and propriety of swagger be damned for another chance to elicit those throated words of adoration. To bask in the warmth of the glow of loving, green eyes.

"Oh my God! I forgot to tell the Angel about the changes I made to the camera array we worked

on!" Claudia hitting her head on the edge of the steel rim of the turret as she tried to pop up. "Frak frak Frak!" the young girl cursing under her breath.

"Forgot to tell me what, Darling?" all the women wrenching as they watched the young red head pop up from below, all rubbing their heads in mock sympathy at the young girl's pain.

"Bloody hell that must smart?" Helena saying as she knelt down next to Myka near the open turret.

"Not smart at all," Claudia mumbling as she rubbed the top of her head, her wrench still gripped in her hand. "I reinforced the outer braces but kept the width at 20 centimeters for unobstructed view when the shutter clicked." Claudia rambling as the two older, seasoned flyers sat back, making way for Helena as she looked over the new conversions.

"Too smart for me." Amanda bumping Myka's shoulder.

"Meaning?" Myka's brow furring as her eyes narrowed in on her engineer.

"Rumor has it she was a professor before the war,"

"And, again, I ask?" Myka trying to keep her voice low as she backed against the bulkhead, Amanda following mere inches from her.

"I don't know. Maybe … ?" Amanda shrugged as she leaned against the .50 mil gun near the turret. "A weekend spent with that," Myka following the hazel eyes to the rounded rear raised up as the older woman was looking down inside at the changes Claudia had made.

"And maybe what?" the spike of possession raising in her voice as she straighten up, knowing full well she was now towering over the woman. "A weekend spent with someone who has an opinion, a point of view?" Myka unaware she was stalking closer to Amanda as she spoke.

"Someone who cares more for Shelly then shelled oysters? Or any food, for that matter, that does not require utensils?" Myka's raised voice catching the attention of Helena as Amanda gulped, her back hitting the cold aluminum of the plane.

"Captain Bering, a moment of your time? That is, if our young engineer is alright?" all women looking at the young woman as she rubbed her head, eyes wide as she stared at Amanda.

"Nope, I'm good. Go do whatever ...you know...captain thingy you two need to do." Myka frowning as Helena smirked at the stumble of words and dark red blush from Claudia, Amanda grateful for the reprieve from the glare of her captain.

"Is that code for I want to …" Claudia piped up as she climbed out of the turret. The wrench she was holding slammed on the floor of the plane as she hoisted herself out, the clank reverberating throughout the empty belly.

"As in there will be a meeting between Captain Wells and myself in my office at 2100 hours. Am I clear, Sergeant Donovan?" Myka said curtly as she forwarded to the aft of the plane, holding the cockpit door open as she waited for Helena to enter.

"Crystal clear," the young red head said, the words echoing off the steel plating of the floor of the plane, her head bent to the deck as she responded.

"I've never been to the cockpit of a flying fortress before," the older woman saying with glee as she followed behind her American.

"And that is our cue to exit said 'flying Fortress'" Amanda said under her breath, yanking the young girl away and toward the stairs.

"But I'm not finished?" Claudia was huffing as Amanda drug her down the stern stairs.

"You are now," she said over her shoulder. "Do you wish to enlighten your education of the fair sex?"

"Nope, still have no clue with the manly one, not listening, humming a ditty," Claudia was saying as she stuck her fingers in her ears, following the lead mechanic down the stairs.

"General Frederic was strict with her instructions," Myka gripping at the map buried deep in her flight suit

"Yes, my love. Us being on the same page and what not," Helena's breath a deep, throated reply against the shell of Myka's ear when she squeezed past. The taller woman then spinning them around, sealing the cockpit door shut with the forced press of her body against the smaller woman.

"Do I not warrant dinner first?" Helena rasped, nipping against the full expanse of Myka's neck as she pulled her head back, fingers tangled in those glorious curls she was now untangling from that tight bun Myka had always sported.

"SOS and a cheap bottle of Vermouth is all I can offer," the last of her words pressing between Helena's clothed breasts, Helena swallowing thick as that firm knee raised her up, her booted foot

Just barely able to touch the floor.

"My my, Captain Bering," the words becoming harder to form as her American lifted her from up, spinning as she placed Helena square on her lap as Myka settled in her captain's chair.

"So you like pushing my buttons?" Myka's breath was a ragged heat across Helena's pale, cool throat. No protest was met as the American pilot tugged at the buttons of Helena's RAF dress blues, her black, booted heels digging under the flight chair to gain some semblance of leverage as her head bent between the exposing skin with each tug of the slow pull of that brass zipper on Myka's flight suit.

"I do, I would ... " Myka protesting against her throat, "Ask for a formal meeting," her words cut off as Helena slipped her fingers down under the tight flight suit.

"Bless the Gods for bestowing zippers upon you Yanks" Helena's voice rough, her fingers soft as she leaned back, eyes half closed as she was enthralled at the effect she had on this woman.

"Grip my yoke," Myka demanded in the softest tone next to Helena's ear as she turned Helena around on her lap, her fingers digging and never losing contact at those soft folds beckoned forher touch. Guiding those hands to grip the controls Myka had never relinquished to anyone before in her aviator carrier.

Helena arched her back, exposing her neck to the side for more abuse and heaven from the nips of teeth, soon soothed by soft lips.

"Don't worry about pitch and yaw," Myla's words deep and throated against the back of Helena's ear as her fingers slipped rhythmicity in and out of hot, moist folds. Her hand curling around the back of Myka's neck, fingers tangling in a mass of curls as her body started to shudder at her upcoming release.

"Am I yours?" the words halting her throws over the edge of bliss, gritting her teeth as she felt the words die on Myka's lips, teeth burning into the thick mass of muscle on her shoulder as her body betrayed her, arching with a silent surrender as the vision of the airfield through the pilot's window faded to black.

"Mine" Myka's throated growl fading into soft skin. Arms as tough as steel cables, griped with a soft security as Helena completely succumbed.

XXX

"You are due a proper courting," the words wistful but filled with a firm undertow as they wafted throughout the small office.

"Meaning?" Myka's eyes still trained on the maps and cartography splayed over her desk. Her hand flinching on the firm grip of her pencil, knowing she would be done for if she dared a glance at the beauty that was leaning against her door jamb, the soft, silk robe just barely able to confine those soft curves.

"Our route? Have you not configured the best plan of attack?" Helena's finger tracing up over the wood, eyes downcast as she slid into the cramped office.

"Most of the division will be on the midnight bombing raid as added distraction, which means ...?" Myka's brow furrowing as she traced the flight plan over the coast.

"Which means an added distraction for what?" Helena crossing her arms, her foot rising behind her calf as to close the door.

"Which what? Captain Wells?" Myka playing her best 'Ice Queen' role as she kept her head down, waiting for the soft click of the lock on her office door.

"You, Captain Bering need a short lesson in respect for the old guard when addressed with a question," Helena smirking as she crossed the short divide between door and desk.

Myka had sighed as she leaned back, reminiscing on early that night

: _Helena had been all business as Myka laid out the maps, coming up with plans for A, B and a C if needed. Her eyes rose as she looked at the woman before her, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose as Myka droned on._

"_Maybe a hot shower and a change of uniform?" Myka's pencil drumming on top of her desk as she watched Helena roll her shoulders._

"_Maybe …" Helena sighed as she stretched her legs under the desk. "Catch you in a few clicks?" winking as Myka nodded to her. "Sorry, Darling" Helena was saying over her shoulder, "A hot soaking is needed. You are the planer, I am the killer," the faint shadow crossing as quickly as it _

_Came._

"_Join me?" Myka watching the RAF jacket fall just outside her door._

"_And if I say no?" clearing her throat as she heard the leather boots thump softly on the wooden floor. Her eyes drifting to the pencil in her hand, the harshness thrumming against the soft paper on her desk._

"_Your loss," echoed into her office._

"_You are a geek!" Myka berating herself over and over as she thumped her head against her desk._

"And you are the one to teach such a lesson to us brash Yanks?" Myka smirked as she set her pencil and ruler down on the desk, pushing herself away from the old desk with a Cheshire grin on her face. The boldness rising up from the pale cowardness from moments before.

"Please, then by all means," Myka was grinning as she waved her hands over her dress brown Khakis. "Teach this brash Yank a thing or two?" her smile spreading as she laced her fingers together, placing them behind her head.

In the few seconds it took Myka to put her hands behind her head, Helena had spun around the desk, forward momentum then pushing Myka up and out of her chair and unto her desk, soft feet hitting at her boot heels, causing her legs to spread as Helena secured her arms over her head, her words brushing against Myka's ear.

"Hard and fast? Or hard and slow?" Helena purred into Myka's ear. The woman wrenching a bit as Helena's fingers gripped tighter on Myka's wrist. Never, ever in all her years had Myka trusted enough to release total control. Never considering herself a top, hating those labels that were bantered about in those dark, smoky clubs she dared to visit once in a blue moon back in the states.

"Labels are for cans" as her brow squeezed at the thought, but never finding anyone she completely trusted to relinquish control, to let herself … go.

Until in this very moment, only a dream on a drunken night once in a while, her heart swelled, the thaw dripping of love and trust.

"Fast," Myka's breathes rasping against the top of her desk, lips brushing against the rough wood as she answered. Those 'legs for days' in brown khaki buckled as they were ripped down around her ankles. "And slow, Myka barely able to whisper out as a strong hand pushed her further against the desk, her face turning sideways so she could catch a breath.

"What about courting?" Myka's words as soft as a pleading child, choking down a hard swallow, thrill and trepidation becoming inseparable.

"Only if you succumb to my whims," the cheeky response not lost on the woman as she growled out her frustrations into the hard, wood desk. Her backside hiking up to the faintest touch of fingers grazing across the back hem of her dress khaki's.

"And what if mine were just your mouth?" Myka tried to tease at first, her body betraying her as her hips shot up to the soft feel of firm flesh between her inner thighs.

"You will take what I give you," the voice muffled against smooth skin. Helena was first grinning at the control she ushered over the 'Ice Queen' her ego sated but for a few clicks until flashes of flack danced behind her eyes, gasping for breath as her mind's eye watched the fiery stream of molten lead illuminate the night sky. Their last recon over the darken forest into enemy skies played out in black and white, as if watching those cheesy Newsreels of propaganda their joined nations pushed on the huddled masses back in the States, seeking to shelter their fears of being overtaken by the Axis.

Muddled black and white, grainy images of the fires that lit the Parisian skyline pushed at the well of tears threatening to burst that damn behind her eyes.

"I can't!" was Helena's reply as she pushed herself away, wrapping hard the sash on her thin robe.

"Babe?" Myka all of sudden feeling exposed as she turned, gripping at her torn brown dress shirt to her chest.

"I can't." Helena kept whispering as she tried in vain to plan her escape as wild, black eyes darted around the door.

"Hey? Helena, look at me?" Myka was almost pleading as her hands cradled Helena's face, thumbs gently wiping at the redden, tear stained cheeks, trying foremost to will the tears away.

"Rest?"

Helena nodding as she allowed the younger woman to cradle her head against her chest. Not an inkling of protest as long arms cradled the small, shaking form. Most officers had headed out for a last minute raid, leaving them alone. Myka rationed as she lifted the women, nestling her head against her chest as she walked through the empty barracks, pulling her close as the soft sobs increased. Each gasped breath matching the beating of her heart as she carried Helena down the long hall.

"Just rest," Myka whispered as she tucked the woman in bed, placing the cool cloth on Helena's forehead after she tucked her into her far bunk against the wall.

"Away from prying eyes," She whispered, letting out the held breath as the woman below her closed her eyes.

Myka did not resist the faint, contented smile slowly forming as she unbuttoned the rest of her dress browns, shimming out of the khakis, she wrapped herself, gritting as her bare legs brushed against the rough cotton blank that was enveloping Helena.

"You think me coward?" the words mumbled against the small strip of bare skin between the rough blanket and the thin strip of the wife-beater tank Myka wore in bed.

"Not at all, you are the bravest woman I know," Helena's voice shaky, warm breath cascading down the soft, tender skin just below Myka's ear as she spoke.

" I am but a fraud, chasing ghosts at the cost of others."

"Hey?" Myka tilting Helena's chin up from the crook of her neck, forcing the woman to look at her.

"You think this 'Ice Queen' would fall for some schmuck?" Myka holding fast to the squirming body, her legs tightening their grip as she pulled the woman close to her. Hot, saline tears were streaking down her collarbone, blazing a trail between her breasts as she cupped the woman's

face.

"Like it or not …" Myka wiping the flow of tears away from those porcelain cheeks, her long legs gripping tighter.

"We are all the sum of us that have to lean on, to care for," Myka was saying, green eyes shading dark as she watched those eyes try to turn away.

"Lie to me," Myka asked, a half looped grin spreading as her thumb traced over engorged lips.

"I hate you from the bottom of my soul," Helena swallowing her words hard.

"Go on," Myka pressing her forehead to Helena's, her thumb tugging at the corner of the Brit's lips.

"I hate you with all my begging and wish you never existed," Helena choking on her words, a halfhearted attempt was made to push herself away.

"Do you wish for Christina ...?" Myka giving an inward sigh of defeat as she relaxed her hold. Needing to know if that last bit of the puzzle would fit.

Black eyes narrowed as she sat up, twisting and fighting till she topped Myka, strong thighs clasping against bucking hips, arms straining till Helena had her way.

"I wish our future children to have never be born,"

"Really?" Myka blindsided by that last remark as she fell into the bed, twisting as to break her fall on the woman above her.

"Baby?" Myka whispered her coming up to caress that damp cheek. "Children?"

"What of that child that has been ducking in and around the warehouse as of late?" Myka frowning as she sat up, the sudden chill of being naked and exposed reverted her back to ugly thoughts of high school, of hiding under her desk to escape the onslaught of barbs from the other children.

Myka tried to gather her most 'I hate you and why the hell did you ask me that' stare as she yanked the thin, cotton blanket over her exposed body, twisting herself away from the woman next to her.

"I am assuming the 'tell me lies' are now over?" Helena's voice calm, too calm for the boiling frustrations that Myka was trying to rein in. After all, she scoffed to herself, that this was her undoing, a sexual tease she purposely under laced to get at the truth. A game of 'Tell me lies" was her thin veil to coxes the truth from Helena.

"Fucking Pete," she cursed under her breath as she mumbled into the coarse blanket. "What the hell would he know about true love?" Myka's words rising as Helena shrunk into her from behind

"We have two options," Helena sighed as she pressed her lips against the tangled fingers she brought to her mouth.

"Meaning?" cold, ice green eyes fixated on the lone, wooden beam supporting the roof.

"Utter truth, or blind trust," Helena whispered.

"We can't fail this mission. Not matter our hearts," Myka whispered against their entwined fingers

"And what if our hearts are the key?"

"Would you protect the Shadow at all cost if you hated me?" Myka's shoulders squeezing up around her ears as Helena wrapped her arm around her waist.

"If chance had not lucked our way in the park that day. If I had only set sights on you that day at the hanger." Helena clearing her throat, fighting the death grip she held the woman to against her body.

"Christina is a ghost I have chosen to put to rest." Helena swallowing thickly as she buried her face into the nook of Myka's necks, her nose brushing away the curls at her nape. Her lips seeking the solace of that soft skin to press against her lips.

"Me, just plain Myka Bering, is the solace, the last layer of her grave?" tears flooding down her face, filling the small crevices between Helena's fingers as they rested just under her chin.

"Yes, my love. Just your trust and belief in me is enough to lie to rest my demons. Is that so hard to accept?" soft words whispered just under her ear. "Ask yourself this; is your trust, your truth, our truth, enough?"

Both women held their collective breath, Myka stealthy turning to face the woman behind, needing, wanting to see the sincere truth as she spoke.

"I trust you Helena." putting her forefinger up to silence parted lips.

"My life, the life of my crew, the life of your wingman," Myka pressing a gentle kiss with each word to parted lips. Her forehead gently pressing as she pulled their bodies flush, "Shall be at the mercy of your hand on that trigger," soft lips sighed at a slight open mouth, the gentle push of tongue invading ever so slightly between teeth.

Soft chest breaths crescendo upon one another till the need of proper decorum flooded hazed thoughts. "I trust you Helena, to save my life." Myka's words a mantra against the shell of the woman's ear, her body arching, covers tossed away as her soul was exposed to every deft touch.

"Wells and Bering, saving the day," Helena whispered between nips down the expanse of those long, white thighs.

"Bering and W…: Myka's voice catching as she exposed her most interment thought.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N I am trying my best to wrap up this story no one is reading. I always made a promise to myself to finish a story. No matter how shitty it was written.**

* * *

Helena watched with a heavy sigh as the rest of the squad separated from them over the channel.

"We are five by five," Helena's voice crackling over the private com as the three planes turned north to the far coast of France.

"A good bottle of Bordeaux after we are done?" Wally's voice cracking through the thundering silence as they approached the Normandy coast.

"Some Yanks have good taste," Myka tilting her head at Helena's quick response over the com.

"No worries, Sargent Wolcott, I will buy the first case," Myka huffed from HG's quip as she tilted the plane aft 2 degrees.

"Meaning?" Helena's voice strong and firm. Her wing tip tilting to Wolly as she dropped just under the Shadow.

"Meaning when we touch down drinks are on the cap here," Myka glaring after Pete slapped her on the back.

"Stay close," Myka all but growled as she watched the Spitfire dip under her wing.

"All crew switch to zero con zero until notified," Myka's voice cold as ice as she turned the flaps to mimic Helena's pitch.

"What the hell, Myka?" Pete covering his mic as he threw his other hand up in the air.

"Need to know," Myka's voice flat as she purposely avoided her friend's eyes. The meeting with general replying in her mind;

"_Ma'am, May I ask why the rest of my crew is not present for this debriefing?" Helena's eyes catching the ringing of Myka's fingers behind her back as they both stood at ease._

"_A need to know basis only in case anyone finds themselves in enemy hands, Captain Bering." the older woman looking up, holding a steel gaze as she watched the realization take hold of her best pilot. Myka swallowed hard as she thought back to the reports from former POW's and their accounts of the inhuman torture they were subjected to at the hands of the enemy._

"_My crew and escort come first," Myka matching her resolve with the General. The tension in the small office was shattered by a faint snicker._

"_Something to add Captain Wells?" Helena snapping to attention as she felt the heated anger radiating off the woman beside her._

_Her eyes darting for a brief second, meeting with the storm of Forest green, "Ma'am, General Frederic," clasping her hands in front of her, "Only half of me is military, my mother being a civvy and all,"_

"_Your point?" both Myka and Irene speaking at the same time. A glare and a follow of lips pressed thin met the Brit._

_Helena stood tall, a pride puffing a swell in her chest she hadn't felt since her Christina fawned over the uniforms the RAF wore proudly in that newsreel they had watched, and two days before the Blitz Screen that took her precious light from her._

"_My point and contrary to assumed reasons of ego," her dark eyes narrowing for a brief second at her tall American, then settling on the General, "I could care less about my kills or notches, the only matter is the safety of my escort."_

_The General settled back in her chair, her fingers drumming the yellow pencil on her desk as she looked between the two women, noting a slight rise in her best pilot, "Be it as it may. The bottom line with this mission is the safe return of the film, no matter the cost. The freedom and lives of both our nations depends on this. Am I clear?"_

"_Crystal" both women answering in unison._

"_There will be two subs just off the coast, monitoring the progress of the mission and if needed, a recovery of the camera array so if any complications arise, a last ditch into the channel with the film is property." Myka's head nodded as Helena shifted on her heels. Both women repressing the screaming of their hearts at the thought of losing one another, throats tightening at the other thought of losing their crew; their friends._

"Myka?" his voice thin, but as thick as his loyalty for his friend.

"The less you know, the better if downed in enemy territory; it's for your own protection; only Helena and I know."

"Just trust me, Pete." Myka's eyes concentrating on the controls of her flying fortress, eyes misting to deep Emerald at the last joyful moments she had spent in the cockpit and hangar before this mission:

_Hot, moist breaths were heaven sent between her breasts as Helena exhaled her bliss between them. The warmth of Helena's release enveloped the woman, overcoming Myka as her knees went weak at the thought that she was the cause._

"_So, this is it?" Myka teasing as she contorted her long legs down into the Angels spitfire. Her fingers grasping at the small joy stick, her smile widening as Helena shimmed in behind her in the small cockpit, fingers splaying over her own._

"_You are in my world now," Helena purred behind Myka's ear. "Time to release control, Captain" the warmth from Helena's words cascaded down Myka's long neck as she turned her head slightly, giving the Brit free rein across her skin._

"Oi! HG!," Wally's voice reverberating throughout the empty warehouse. Both women freezing at the rude intrusion.

"That's your Sargent, interrupting us" Myka's breathing caressing against the shell of Helena's ear. Her breathing out a frustrated sigh as she removed those fingers from inside her zipped flight suit.

"Not mine," Myka grinned, her tongue licking at the drops of Helena's essence that clung to her fingers.

"He has a dream of a family one day," Helena turning as she felt the heated blush of truth as she thumbed her flight suit to a proper decorum, wishing to be held to a higher standard for her hearts desires.

"Do you ever think of having, wanting a family?" Helena asked as she turned, trying to repress her thoughts of how life was with Christina. Scared to impart her wish of how life was before the war, of happier times.

"Don't ask," Myka's head dropping, her green eyes transfixed on zipping up her flight suit. "My childhood was not the best and … truthfully, I am scared of becoming my father." her head dipping as she mumbled the last of her words, "I would never want to subject a child, bring a child into this craziness I call a life."

"I am no slut," Helena's voice just a mere whisper, never revealing a word Myka had ever heard before. "I always assumed my family was ashamed of me for having Christina outside of marriage. That I was not a worthy mother and since her death, a piss poor protector, a cad instead of her protective knight." Helena pulling back a bit, Myka steady behind her, "She always revered us as the Wells of Camelot, her my princess, me her Arthur."

"You are my knight in shining armor," those soft lips brushing their truth against the shell of Helena's ear. The warm surrender of strong arms pulling her closer was her undoing, her truth.

Her mind warred with her truth, her flirt then taking over to fill in the blank emptiness of having a someone to fill her heart,

"_Have you ever been privy to the cockpit of a Spitfire?" her failsafe plan of seducing whatever was nearby, male or female...no matter, just as long as it was a warm body was reduced to smoking ashes after Myka had appeared in the hangar that first day at the base._

"_Five minutes for your joystick and then back to plans in the barracks, "that lopsided grin melting what little resolve and ice Helena had left coursing through her veins._

"_I am not my Grandmother," Helena chiding as her teeth nipped the exposed skin on Myka's shoulder._

"_Hey?" reaching behind, Myka retorted sharply as her fingers tangled in that black silk_

"_You want business or personal, or both mixed?" Myka's nails gently scraping at the soft scalp, refusing to give up control. But her hips were her Judas, bucking up as Helena's fingers pushed forward into her wet, moist center._

"_The Lady doth protest," the Cheshire grin enveloping both women._

"_Never," Myka protested under her breath. _

_Later that night, and both fed up with the interruptions from a busy Air base, they both agreed to take it to a more private setting. "Change the rules, Agent Bering," the grin in full spread as Helena gripped at the loose sheets above Myka's head. Her grin spreading as she covered her lips closer, her need to encase every iota of this woman under her._

"_Give me another tour?" Helena's teeth nipping just between ear and jaw, but no matter, those thin, lean thighs had a mind of their own._

"_Never…." Myka's breathe ragged as she bucked her hips against those thighs. "Just a flying fortress," her breath dying at the last of her words._

"_So quick and fast?" Helena's words falling in a mantra between Myka's legs, teeth pulling every ounce of bliss._

XXX

"Myka?" the young redhead running for the two women who bee-lined to the spitfire at the end of the closed Warehouse.

"Just leave them be," Amanda yanking the young girl back to the mounted camera on the Shadow.

"Myka's words, as the general and MacPhareson, the camera is all that matters,"

"Really?" Claudia wondered, her forefinger pointing at the old warehouse as the two women, both with arms wrapped around each other waists, stumbling as drunken sots.

"Claudia has been an unlisted for how many years?" Helena's grin faded a bit as she slung open the old warehouse door. Her face contorting as scruffy fur rushed between Myka's legs.

"What the h…" Helena's voice cut short as Myka chased a few yards after the feline, watching those long fingers dig into the side-leg pocket, tongue clicking as she opened the can of stinky fish.

"Flyboy's superstition?" Helena nodding to the black headed feline tearing into the can of tuna.

"My old superstition," Myla shrugging her shoulders as she scraped at the last bits of tuna.

"And of children?' Helena's eyes downcast, arms wrapped around her waist as she tried to scurry out the old warehouse.

"Climb down from that cross of yours," Myka pulling Helena flush against her.

"Yeah, about that with me," Myka nevering leaving her gaze as she pulled the woman closer.

"Christina was a part of you, yes?" Myka pressing her forehead against porcelain skin, tears falling between her blouse as she succumb to both their fears. Myka had lead them both back to the barracks, wanting, needing a private place to confess her thoughts.

"And I am a part of you now?" her voice wavering at the last words as her fingers snagged under the hem of the loose RAF shirt Helena was wearing.

The door flinging opening caused Helena and Myka to jump apart as Amanda rushed into their barracks. "Some stupid coast!"

"And what of it?" Myka's automatic response as she turned away, trying her best to smooth down her dress browns, head turned as Helena stepped up, grabbing the blonde woman after she stormed through the door.

"Someone's King and country are under the impression these photos of that damn beach coast are of the utmost. More important than our own lives. Who the fuck is this MacPherson and where the hell does he get off saying we are 'expendable'!" Helena's lips thin as she guided Amanda to the back of the officer's barracks. Daring to look up from the bottom pour of Scotch, hoping her Myka had claimed some peace in her eyes before Amanda's outburst.

"What's the op, top? Us getting killed for some damn photos!" Amanda ignoring Helena as she stared down her Captain over the rim of the cheap liquid.

"Don't you dare! You know you and my crew mean the world to me. I'll be damned before I sacrifice anyone over a damn piece of film" Myka pointing her one finger over the rim of her glass as she closed the space between her and Helena.

"I...I'm geeze... I am really sorry," Amanda turning to rush out the door.

"It is because she is a woman?" Myka's words fierce.

"What? ...Really? You think I am a Neanderthal?" Amanda wrenching her arm out of the firm grip from Myka, slamming her drink down in front of them both. "Go fuck yourself," Amanda whispered under her breath.

"Myka?" Helena's eyes pleading as she grabbed the woman before she could rush out the door.

"I'm the fucking 'Ice Queen' no feelings, remember?" Myka gulping down the last of the harsh liquid, then slamming her own glass down on the rough wood.

The two women gasping as the glass shattered in Myka's hand, the only feel of what had happened was the warm feel of liquid running down Myka's arm.

"Go, sleep, pre-flight is still 0400 hours," Helena pushing Amanda out the door, her head grinded with worry over her shoulder

"I swear upon my daughter's life that your captain will be ready for pre-flight," her smile tight as she closed the door behind her.

"Your word is good enough, your daughter with God," Amanda's whispers just catching at the far ear of Helena.

Helena sighed as she locked the door behind her, her eyes watching as her young American moved like a Sloth toward the loo.

"I made a promise upon Christina's grave," was all Helena said as she gently grabbed Myka's hand, her own fingers brushing under the water till temped to her touch.

"Helena?" Myka started as Helena moved the young American's wounded hand under the water.

"Silence," was all Helena whispered. Her studious appraisal of the small wound, caring, disinfecting and healing the small gash.

"One day, after many days, hours of courting, of months at Christina's grave …" Helena pausing as she dried the open wound with the hand towel.

"I promised her that I would one day let myself open up again to love. You shall succumb to my wiles and charm, my true of heart for your very being and say yes," her head still downcast as she wrapped a dry bandage over the small cut. But her fingers never releasing as she lead them to the far end of the barracks.

"And say yes to what?" Myka letting herself be led, her head screaming in protest, only to be killed by her heart.

"You never craved the need for children?" Helena's words more a statement to knowing Myka. Her smirked held back at the knowing response.

"A woman does not need a child to define her," Myka's eyes growing heavy with sleep and fatigue as she spoke her words.

"I once was friends with a pilot from WW1," Helena saying as she struggled to shove the one door open to the old warehouse down at the end of the barracks, tucking Myka into bed. Her lips hovering on her forehead, her lips stilling as she caught, for a fleeting moment, a flash of dark curls rushing around the corner of the old building. "He said you are nothing without love,"

"Easy there, old girl," Helena whispered to herself, shaking off the imagained sight of her heart, "One soul at a time to save," worrying her bottom lip.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**A/N This is the last chapter to this story. Thank you to all who came along for the ride.**

* * *

**1945**

"Are you sure?" Wolly was asking as they both stood next to each other in the warehouse hangar, watching as the crews decommissioned her Spitfire. Helena just nodding her head as she turned away from her friend, trying her best to hide her wiping away the tears.

"So," … the man coughing a bit as he turned to face his friend, "This teaching thing at the Uni, have you told Myka about that?" Helena jumped at the loud clank of the wheel wells being chocked into place.

"I have written her letters and sent many cables, but Irene has informed me that communication is spotty at best in the Pacific. The Japs wreaking havoc on communiques with their last gasps of resistance from the devastation of those bombs the Yanks dropped over Hiroshima and Naga ..."

"Poor bastards never stood a chance ... " Helena's words fading as she looked over Wolly's shoulder, a tattering of a pink dress and flowing dark locks dashing out of the corner of the warehouse catching her attention. "Be a dear and make sure they take care of the Angel?" Helena was saying in rushed words as she sprinted for the old door at the far end of the warehouse.

"Um, sure and was that a cat?" Wolly not sure what he was seeing as he watched his friend rush for the door, _'a child with a black, one-eyed cat dangling under the child's arm?'_ shaking his head as he turned his attention back to all the fuss going on in the hanger.

The year that followed saw many changes, Helena settling down in the head spot of teaching war history to young minds at the Uni, many lonely nights spent reading over blacked out cables from Myka as she dealt with the process of adopting the war orphan she had finally chased down that day at the warehouse. Hope for a life together with her one was fading with each day, her knowing how Myka felt about children and the fears of a life without them both.

As the first year past, Helena's fears faded as her love for her newly adopted child grew. She allowed her fears of Myka's safety to take a back seat to the huge task of making a home for her and Elizabeth but Myka was never far from her thoughts. "After this bloody war, you would assume more information would become freer," she huffed to the General on that Sunday afternoon in the park. Her watching as the child played with others when the woman approached her.

"And why the hell are our letters still blacked out?" Helena almost yelling at the older woman. "The war has been over for almost two years now!" Helena standing up, pacing next to the bench in the park near the Uni she was teaching at. Her frustration reaching its crescendo at the lack of information from the General. "We married before she left for the Pacific, are you aware of that, Irene? A spouse is entitled to some info and intel on her wife!"

The stoic woman stood tall, refusing to back down from the verbal onslaught as she tugged at the ends of her now blue jacket. "The United States is in the mists of a change and Major Bering is heading up the transition from the Air Corp to the newly formed Air Force, Mrs. Bering-Wells. These things require time."

"Do they now?" Helena fumed, marching closer to the woman, just to be halted by the soft sound,

"Mummy?"

**1947**

"Professor Bering-Wells?"

Helena turned from the chalkboard she was writing on to the raised hand in her class. "Yes, Mr. Seacourt?"

"So it safe to assume that the flight you were escort to over Normandy was the turning point in the war?"

"Yes, Mr. Seacourt, the pictures we, the joint effect between the US and Britain was a major turning point. If not for the gallant effects of the crew of the Shadow and our escort, you be dining on kraut and brats instead of a local shepherd's pie in the dining hall" Helena responded, her eye catching from the side her little girl as she sat her desk.

"So it is safe to say that the turning point was the flight and its outcome?' the young man asked.

"For the umtenth time, yes, Mr. Seacourt." Helena's voice raising up at her irratation. Helena ignored the soft opening of her lecture hall door as she turned back to the chalk board, writing out the cause and effect of those pictures from that night so many years ago. "V-day would have never happened if not for those intel pics we were able to produce." Helena sighed.

"And what of the outcome of that flight over Normandy, Professor Bering-Wells?"

The voice coming from the corner of the classroom, near the open door. The sound of chalk dropping to the floor was followed by a small gasp of air; the student's first turning to the low voice, then snapping their heads at their Professor's response.

"Your here," was spoken in a hushed, breathy whisper as Helena rushed toward the door, her hand clutching the small gold locket on the pearl necklace around her neck as she raced toward the shadowed, uniformed figure darkening her classroom door way.

"They blackened all your words in your letters," her voice rushing upon lips that parted in a thin strain, her body falling into those arms she had longed for, dreamed of, since their parting.

"I know baby," the rue of sorrow flowing over her lips as she collapsed in the tall soldiers arms.

"They, General Frederic, would not tell me anything," Helena's words becoming soft pleads as she started to tangle her fingers in that damn awful blue tie around Myka's neck, her face dropping as she concentrated on that tie. Not daring to trust herself to break down in sobs. "Something about the Pacific theater and you and the Shadow," Helena's words becoming muffled as she nipped against that heavenly long, slender throat as she loosed that damn tie.

"Excuse me, Professor Bering-Wells?" a throat clearing as a small tug on Helena's skirt halted the singular thought on her mind.

"Mummy?"

Helena's blurred eyes started to focus on the small tugs on her skirt as she leaned back, "Class dismissed," clearing her throat as she looked down on the small hand that quickly left her skirt, gripping tightly on those dress blues that covered those legs she longed for.

"Remember that pub we spent the night in?" Helena's words catching with her fingers along Myka's jaw as she turned her head, Helena giving a dismissive wave as her students filed out the other door, none daring to interrupt the reunion of the women blocking the main door to the lecture hall.

"Yes?" Myka answered reluctantly as she eyed the young wafe coming around the side of Helena's legs. Myka smiled as she gently removed her major's hat from Helena's hand, placing it on top of the little girls.

"Go wait behind the desk Elizabeth, yes?" Helena asked as she patted the little girls behind.

Myka sighed as she turned back to dark eyes, her hand smoothing her tight bun back as she then tried to straighten her dress blue jacket. "Which do you want to address first?" Her finger dipping to press against the little girl's nose.

"Oh, just the fact that I could not find any Intel on your whereabouts for the last three years or the fact that you have made no remarks to our added family without any input from me?" Helena crossing her arms, her stern face melting at the sight of the young girl playing with the oak leaves on Myka's cap.

"Baby?" Myka was saying as she wrapped her arms around from behind, resting her chin on Helena's shoulder as they both watched the young girl at Helena's desk. "You were the one preaching about all the war orphans when we met in the park," Myka's words dancing between little kisses to Helena's neck.

"But I had yet to ensnare your heart?" Helena humming as she tilted her head a bit to the left, a soft moan escaping both women as Myka's lips transverse from Helena's ear down along her neck with pallet lips that sent shivers across pale white skin.

"Since when did you go back to teaching?" Myka asked against pale skin, her arms wrapping tighter around Helena's waist, a small moan of approval as Helena tightened their fingers together.

"Since you disappeared into the Pacific without as much as a kiss goodbye," Helena huffed, breaking their intimate embrace, and then smiling at the child as she handed her drawing pencils over to the little girl.

"Thank you, Mummy" the little girl responded, her legs swinging under the wooden chair as she started to draw on the papers on Helena's desk.

"Was she orphaned?" Myka asked as she neared the side of Helena's desk, her knuckles gently grazing the young girl's cheek as they both smiled at each other.

"The pub was bombed shortly after you were deployed to the Pacific," Helena smiling at the young girl as she rounded her desk. "All her family killed in the blitz," Helena whispered after placing her hands over the young girl's ears.

"Ms. Myka and I met, Mummy, in the hangar that one night," the young girl squirming away from Helena's hands. "It is not like I have no concept to what happened to gramps and grammy?" the little girl huffing as her brows furrowed, concentrating on her drawing.

"I came back for a 12 hour leave that night to gather my things," Myka blushing as she turned away. "General Frederic said I had only a few ticks to gather my things and that seeking you out was off limits," Helena watched as Myka's nails dug into the thick leather of her flight jacket.

"So it was Irene that kept us apart?" Helena's voice a low grumble, her face turning to hide her anger.

"Seems so," Myka replied as she came behind the young girl fiercely drawing on Helena's desk.

"Didn't stop me from wanting to marry you," the lopsided grin growing as Helena ran a rough finger through her hair.

"Helena, babe?" Myka was saying as she pulled the woman away from the little girl, from her desk. "You know I am not that keen on kids, right?" Helena face frowning first, then melting to a soft smile as she watched her wife smile at the little girl at her desk.

"Before you even go there," Helena placing soft lips to hush Myka's. "I know she is not Christina, no child will ever be," Helena's words soft as she looked at her hands falling slowly down Myka's chest, and then toying at the gold buttons on Myka's jacket.

"But she is ours," Myka sighing into soft lips.

**XXX**

**1963**

"Should I be offended?" Helena asked as she lifted their grandchild from the swing, Elizabeth and Myka watching as the older woman enveloped the young girl under her royal navy blue coat, her smile widening as she approached the two women.

"I do have 53 kills on record under my belt," Helena hefting the young girl on her hip as she saddled up to the two overprotective mothers.

"Meaning?" Myka blurted as she got up, arms stretching as she reached for their grandchild. "Counting all the drop-kills, I could brag that I have thousands of kills," Myka frowning as Elizabeth hugged her daughter close to her.

"And I have none," Elizabeth kissing her girls cheek as she glared at her mother's remarks.

"Wolly, do control your co-pilots." his head whipping around, his son then glaring at the two women whom he knew would move heaven and earth to protect this little family.

"So, should you two be getting ready for the air show?" Wolly Jr. glaring at the group.

"Never mind him," his wife was saying as she hooked her arm into her mother-in-law's. "The kids are so looking forward to this HG."

Brown eyes locked onto green as they made their way to the airfield. Myka watched as Helena climbed into her old Spitfire, her hand out stretched to the tall woman.

"So tell me Lt. General Bering-Wells, have you ever had the joy of riding in a Spitfire cockpit?"

The proud smirk becoming infectious as Myka tangled her fingers in those of her love as she climbed the small steps of the plane.

"Once," Myka grinned as she settled into the cockpit of the small fighter plane.

"Aces," Helena replied against the shell of Myka's ear.

"Let me show you the world,"

The End


End file.
